By Courage and Love
by najex
Summary: "Honestly, I should probably be used to this by now. Waking up in a strange new land with no memory of how I got there? Perhaps I should just accept that I am not meant for a quiet life." Fem!Harry
1. Universal disclaimer

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter and Inheritance Cycle are owned by J.K Rowling and Christopher Paolini respectively**

Sadly, this story needs a bit more of disclaimer than that. . .

Alright, a bit of history concerning this story.

It all began with SynthesSurge's story called 'By Wisdom and Courage'.  
During the summer of 2016 it got deleted with a message that she would one day return to pick it up again. Sadly, I was on a holiday at the time, and didn't have regular internet access, so I missed that memo. All I knew was that it was gone.  
A few months later I decided to rewrite and continue that story myself – at the time I was going on the assumption that Synthesis had disappeared for good, I had no way to contact her; her account sat abandoned.

I was going completely from memory. Of course I couldn't remember anything but the broad strokes, though that ended up being a good thing in the end. Overtime, it became more and more its own thing, instead of a simple rewrite. I was, and still am, aware of where Synthesis wanted the original story to go, and I planned to go in a different direction.

On Sunday 26/02/2017 I was contacted by Synthesis, telling me that she was back and was planning to re-upload and continue her story. Because of a misunderstanding in communication I was under the impression that she wanted my story taken down. From the beginning I promised myself that if the original author were to ever ask me to stop I would do so, thus I ended up removing all the chapter minus a small AN explaining the situation.

The following day Synthesis and I spend the day trading messages back and forth, and in the end, she decided that my story was different enough to count as: 'being inspired by', instead of 'blatantly copied from'.

I was then given permission to continue my story, and I put all my chapter back up. Which is where we are now. The one person with the right to complain about this topic has given me the OK, so you do not need to do so anymore.

Here is a copy of the review that she left me here:

 _hey, it's Synthesis here :). Najex has done a wonderful job at this story, and I like it very much. With my return here, things went a bit fast; I formulated my request as if I wanted Najex to automatically pull the story, when in reality I just wanted to look it over at first to make sure I felt comfortable with it. I apologize the confusion that has caused, and I'm glad it worked out._

 _Some people were miffed, to say the last, that I got a say in this story keeping going or not at all. And I get that, especially when you love a story. However, that someone pointed out that I have no say in it, because the main storyline belongs to someone else (e.g. the author of the actual books, in this case Christopher Paolini and J. K. Rowling) is a disservice to the whole fanfiction community. Before I gave Najex the go-ahead, I simply wanted to make sure that he wasn't basically writing my story, just with different wording - as we had, in fact, discussed what i had planned in detail. But this isn't my story - this is a story that has been inspired, heavily some places, not so heavily in other places, by my story, and I feel very honoured at that._

 _Najex and I will continue to be in contact. He was a tremendious help when I was on the site last time, and I'm sure he will be it again this time. Hopefully I can also help him now. I'm looking forward to it.  
_  
So there you have it. That is why there are now two very similar stories being written by two different authors. Especially the earlier chapters look very similar to each other.

Here is the URL of SynthesSurge's story that is now being re-uploaded and hopefully continued s/12383390/1/By-Wisdom-and-Courage

For those who have already read By Wisdom and Courage:  
Plotline for the two stories diverge around chapter Declaration and Promise so if you don't want to read the same plotline twice, please start there.  
There are differences in characterization of the characters, I get that some don't want to go through 40k words to discover them so here is a summary and, of course, **Spoilers!** :  
\- BCaL Helena is a little more playful and a little less smart that BWaC Helena  
\- BCaL Helena is more idealistic and even more self-sacrifcing than BWaC Helena. She admitted that her life for Galbatorix is a trade she would be willing to make.  
\- Physically: BCaL Helena is a lot smaller and weaker than BWaC Helena, and BCaL Godric has orange eyes while BWaC Godric has blue eyes.  
\- BCaL Helena's does not have magical core. HP magic has no endurance limit. Helena has up until that point (chapter 10) not succeeded in getting the Ancient Language magic to work for her.  
\- BCaL Godric is a lot less calm and a little more… draconic then BWaC Godric.  
\- Eragon has show his scrying of Arya to Brom and Helena so they are aware of who she is and are actively planning to rescue her from that point onward.  
\- I will also say that this version will be more cannon compliant than Synthesis's version. This story is mostly about BCaL Helena's journey through the Rider War. The focus will be on how she reacts to the various book events and vice versa, not on adding more stuff. At least that is the plan. Some things will inevitably be changed of course, but overall it will follow the book plot closely with some small changes.


	2. Alagaësia

Helena awoke shivering to the feeling of sore muscles against the cold ground.

She blearily looked around herself, and noticed that she was in the middle of a forest. All her worldly possessions seemed to be scattered around her, her school books, potion ingredients, her entire wardrobe, some pieces of furniture; most of those broken.

it seemed like someone took everything in Grimmauld place – including its library, kitchen utensils and everything else you could think off – and just dumped it in a forest somewhere. Even more strangely, all her money – all of which is supposed to be in Gringotts – seemed to be distributed across the small clearing where she lay.

 _Alright, how did I get here?_ she thought, feeling dazed.

After that she noticed, with some degree of alarm, that she was completely naked.

 _Helena, you stupid girl, what sort of trouble have you gotten your gotten yourself into this time?_

She tried to remember how she ended up here but came up blank. The last thing she could remember was Hermione taking her to Honeydukes for some catching up. She went home after that, somewhat drunk but not nearly enough to have let to _this_. After that… nothing.

Her friend had felt guilty, thinking that she had been neglecting her. After the war, Ron and Hermione took some time off to enjoy their new relationship. Helena felt they more than deserved it after the year – years really – that they had, and gave them space.

She tried to reach for her wand to cast a Fire-Making Charm on some of the broken furniture for some heat, but to further alarm, found her hand brushing against her naked thigh. _Oh yea, no clothes._

She thoroughly searched the area for her wand, finding and putting on some clothes in the process. She found the pants that she had worn last night, but didn't find her wand in its pocked.

After an hour of searching she gave up. During her search she did find some other interesting things.

She found the broken pieces of her old Firebold which she had lost when fleeing the Death Eaters with Hagrid on Sirius's motorbike.  
She found her survival kid; the same survivals kit that she took with her on her Horcrux hunt along with all the food provisions they still had left over.

Lastly, she found what looked to be a big rock that was obviously man-made. The surface was smooth and gleamed red light, sort of like the rubies in the hourglass where the house points for Gryffindor were stored. Faint blue lines covered its surface like vines. She could sense that it was magical, but not its precise purpose.

Helena found herself strangely fascinated with it but couldn't figure out why. She would show it to Profess– uhm, Headmistress McGonagall and see what she made of it.

Interestingly enough, her invisibility cloak was the only thing she owned that she didn't find.

 _Well, the thing is immune to most spells, so I guess whatever brought me here didn't effect it._ , She mused.

 _Okay, now what?_ , the young witch thought, feeling much more awake now.

Without her wand, there were precious few magics available to her. She had some limited skill in Occlumency, could brew potions with the ingredients she had with her, and still had her Animagus form, but not much else. If she got herself worked up enough she might be able to force some 'accidental' magic, but that was unreliable at best.

 _First, I need to find civilization, from there I can try to find my way back._

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

After collecting all her stuff that wasn't broken, she turned herself into her dog Animagus form – a husky with dark fur on her back, white everywhere else, and bright green eyes – and started running through the forest.

As a dog she could go faster and not be as hindered by any flora and, barring her eyesight, had far superior senses. She was also a lot warmer thanks to her tick fur.

After about an hour of traveling she started to pick up a briny smell that reminded her of the sea. Thinking that her chance of finding humans were higher near water, she chose to stay close to the shore once she found it.

During that first night among the trees she got her first sign that returning home might not be as easy as she had first thought.

 _I recognize none those constellations_ , she thought, perplexed, as she looked up into the night sky. At Hogwarts, they had studied the stars intensively, so even if she was on the other side of the planet she should still recognize some of them.

For two days she traveled as a dog. Turning back into a human only to eat. She could, if she wanted, hunt for her own food as an animal but she knew that once she turned back into a human the memory of what she had done as a dog would have made her ill.

She had enough food stored in her bag for over a month in any event. Whenever she stopped, she took out the magical rock out of her bag and tried to learn more about it and, more importantly, why she was so fascinated by it. So far she had no success. She knew what a compulsion charm felt like, but this wasn't that.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Helena smelled the city before she saw it. The smell of fish grew thicker and was now accompanied by the smell of humans and other even less pleasant scents.

 _This doesn't look like a modern city._ , Helena wondered as she stood on a rocky outcrop to get a better view.

The city was encircled by a giant white wall – 30 feet by her best estimate. Its smooth surface was broken by two iron portcullises, one facing the western sea, the other opening south to a road that followed a river leading into the forest.

Rising above the wall she could see a huge structure build of giant stones and turrets. At the top of the building she could see what looked to be a lighthouse. It wasn't illuminated right now since the sun was up so she couldn't be sure.

What really tipped her of that something wasn't normal were the guards – actual guards! – standing watch at both gates. More specifically their attire, they were both wearing what looked to be chain mail taking straight out of a medieval war museum.

None of this made any sense. Isolated pockets of human cultures may yet exist on Earth but nothing this big. They also seemed to have a pale skin color, making it even more unlikely.

It was around this time that Helena began to seriously consider the possibility that she was an entirely different world or dimension than the one she was used to. It wouldn't even be the weirdest thing that has ever happened to her, though it would probably make her top three.

 _Regardless, I will probably be able to find answers in the city_ , Helena thought, and she strode towards the gate by the road.

 _On the bright side, I will probably not stand out so mush with my complexion and robes. This is probably the first time I have ever been thankful for how old fashioned wizarding fashion is_ , she thought with some amusement.

When she made her way to the gate one of the guards stopped her with a hand gesture.

"And who are you miss? And what were ye thinking traveling alone on the road?" He asked. The man had a slight American accent, Helena noted.

"I am Helena Potter, and why wouldn't it be okay for me to travel alone?" Helena asked, hoping to get an idea of how dangerous this area was.

The guard raised an eyebrow in incredulity as if he couldn't believe that she needed to ask

"Not safe for a woman alone on the road lady, especially not in these times. Urgals been acting up, attacking trading caravans and travelers. Even heard rumors of entire villages up North being sacked by the creatures."

Helena had no clue what Urgals were, but she didn't want to draw more attention to herself by advertising her ignorance on the matter. "Well I thank you for your concern and I will be sure to take better care in the future good sir," Helena answered the man, putting on her best winning smile.

"Your welcome miss," the guard said, "And just what business do you have in Teirm anyway." The guard challenged, more gruffly then he intended Helena guessed by his slight wince.

"Just visiting family," Helena told the first lie that she could think of.

"Oh well, carry on then I suppose," the guard waved her through. She didn't think he necessarily believed her, but rather he just didn't want to bother her anymore, and didn't consider her dangerous enough to make trouble. _Ha! If only he knew._

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Helena decided that she should first find a place to stay. It wasn't difficult to find an inn. The people of Teirm where used to travelers and to being asked for directions.

She ended up at one of the nicer parts of the city at an inn called 'The Rusty Sea Eagle'. It looked to be a three-story building with white stone and walls that looked well maintained.

As she entered the house, the man behind the counter looked up at her.

He was cleaning some glasses that didn't even look dirty to her eyes. _I wonder if barkeepers really have to spend that much time cleaning their glasses or if they just need something to do when sitting behind a counter all day_ , she mused.

She noticed that there were a couple of other customers sitting at tables around the room but they didn't pay her any mind and she was glad to return the favor.

"Can I help you, young lady?" Asked the bartender distractedly, not pausing his work.

"Yes, I'd like to rent a room?" Helena asked in a quiet voice.

"How long ye recon you'll be staying?" The bartender inquired, not unkindly.

"I would like to pay for a week, but I might decide to extend it."

"That'll be four crown miss, breakfast included."

Helena obviously didn't carry any of the local currency but she hoped he would accept galleons. They _were_ made of gold after all.

She took out one of the gold coins and put them on the counter.

"Will this suffice?" she asked.

The man's eyes bulged momentarily. He quickly put away the glass he had been cleaning and offered her his full attention now. His lips curving into what even she could tell was a fake smile. She liked his previous casual but pleasant expression better.

"That will do nicely yes," he said as he reached for a cabinet behind the counter and retrieved a silver colored key.

"Thank you," Helena said as she took the key from the man.

"Second floor, end of the hall of the left. Now, my name is Seben, if there is anything I can do for you do not hesitate to ask."

The man obviously thought her a rich foreign girl, possibly noble born, and was trying to be extra helpful in the hope that she would spend more money here, or give a generous tip.

 _Well he isn't exactly wrong, I am a rich foreign girl._ She thought about it for a moment and decided she did need to know something.

"Actually, do you know where I might be able to get information?" she asked.

"Information?" the now named Seben repeated.

"Maps, history, books and such," Helena clarified.

"I suppose you might look up Jeod Longshanks. Nice fellow by all accounts, though I don't know him myself. Everyone knows that he has a rather impressive collection of books. Suppose he might be willing to let you look at them for a fee. He has been having some money trouble lately, and he could probably use the extra income," the man advised.

Helena thanked the man and went up to her room to get settled.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Jeod seemed to be a very well-known individual and was easy to find.

The man had no problem sharing his library with her for a small fee. She suspected that if he wasn't having money problems he would have refused to take payment at all. He seemed glad somebody was finally taking an interest in his collection.

Jeod's library was a goldmine of information. Turns out that she was in a city called Teirm on a continent named Alagaësia. The name didn't sound familiar.

 _Well that settles it. I am in another world,_ '' Helena thought morosely. She had suspected, but to have it confirmed…

She had never heard of magic being capable of such a thing, but when you have lived her life you just sort of learned to accept that these things are in fact possible when they happen.

She wanted to get back home, of course, and decided that to do that she needed to find whatever passed for magicals in this world.

Surprisingly, the existence of magic was well known to even those that didn't possess it. Magicians lived among normal people and were looked upon with suspicion yes, but also respect. Sadly, most magicians seemed to answer to Galbatorix, the king of these lands.

A tyrant if there ever was one. He allegedly betrayed his own comrades in a brutal grab for power and he seemed to care noting for his own people; judging by how he wasn't taking any effort to defend them from the Urgals in the north, in what people had started to call the 'Norther massacre'. Jeod told her he made an effort to destroy any literature that painted him a negative light and came down hard on any sign of dissent.

Since the king seemed to be trying to recruit any magicals he found to his side she had no intention to draw attention to herself, which made contacting any other magicals a difficult prospect.

She could go to Surda; a small country that had split off from Galbatorix' empire where she would hopefully find magicals with no connection to the king.

Another option seemed to be the Elves.

By the stories these books told, these weren't the domesticated house elf's that she knew of in the wizarding world, but seemed to resemble more the Elves from muggle fantasy literature. Extremely long lived, beautiful, mysterious, lived in forests and - most importantly for her - were very adapt at magic.

Sadly for her, they also seem to have gone into hiding ever since Galbatorix took power, so they would be difficult to find. She knew that they were reported to live somewhere in the forests of 'Du Weldenvarden' in the north eastern corner of the continent, but she knew that those capable of magic had ways to avoid being found if they didn't want to be.

 _They still seem to be my best hope of discovering a way back home though,_ ' Helena thought. _Although. . ._ A part of felt dirty at the thought of leaving this land with such an obvious evil praying on people.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Her research took several days.

She chose to spent what time she wasn't using to peruse Jeod's library on familiarizing herself with the city and its people and generally getting a feel of the place. They seemed to be having some troubles with trade being disrupted by Urgals, a violent hairy warlike race with horns so she learned, and pirates making life difficult for those who relied on the sea for their livelihood, like Jeod. The mood in the city was definitely sullen.

Still, Helena enjoyed exploring the city. Being a trade city, it had news, stories, and goods from all over the world and she enjoyed spending time among people that didn't immediately recognize her.

Since Teirm was so used to travelers and traders passing through, nobody payed her much attention. It was liberating in a way. _And exciting._

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Like every evening for the past week she found herself in her room in 'The rusty sea eagle'.

She had taken to looking through the books of the Black library looking for magics that she could still do without a wand.

There were some rituals that she could do but didn't want to do, since most of them involved making sacrifices that she was unwilling to make.

The book had some information on wandless magic, but warned that casting without a wand was often volatile and could only be accomplished by the most powerful and skilled wizards and witches. She knew that she was more powerful than most. She was never as smart, knowledgeable, or skilled as Hermione, but she did have power. It would have to do.

She had been practicing every evening with mixed results. She could somewhat reliably get her cushion to fly and after a few tries could magically lock her room shut. When she tried to cast a severing charm however she accidentally made a painful cut in her own index finger. She resolved to not try any hexes or curses for foreseeable future after that.

It was as she was practicing the lumos spell – a harmless enough spell that wouldn't blow up in her face if she got it wrong, Helena hoped – that she got startled by a squeaking sound coming from somewhere in her room.

She turned to where she heard the noise and found the red stone. She had placed it on the nightstand right beside her bed and had been studying the thing on and off for the past week when she could find the time.

She put her ear to the stone and could hear something moving inside.

 _Not a stone at all: an egg_ , Helena surmised.

Helena knew of only one creature that had an egg that size: a dragon. Though as far as she knew, dragon eggs required a lot of heat to hatch.

For the next hour she fretted about the egg with worry, as she imagined what trouble a newborn dragon could cause her. Helena well remembered Norberta and how she had nearly set Hagrid's hut on fire.

Helena anxiously looked around at her mostly wooden room.

Not to mention that she had no idea how to explain how she got a dragon if it were discovered.

Eventually, the egg started wobbling followed by cracks appearing all over its surface.

After another set of particularly large squeaks, a small head poked out of the egg, quickly followed by the rest of its body.

To the witch's surprise, this dragon had a pair of forelegs.

Helena only knew of four legged dragons due to a small mention in 'Fantastic beasts and where to find them'. Those dragons were long since extinct on earth and lived on only in stories and legend.

The dragon was about as long as her forearm and was covered in a grey slimy fluid that came from the egg, but it held a bearing that somehow made it seem grand and majestic. Its scales where the same ruby color as the egg's. Its wings were several times longer than its body. The head was triangular in shape and she noticed two white fangs protruding from its upper jaw. There where small spikes that ran down the dragon's spine from its head all the way to its tail; not dissimilar to the Hungarian Horntail that she had to outfly in her fourth year at Hogwarts.

The dragon turned to her with warm orange eyes that shined with an intelligence that no newborn creature was supposed to have.

With a happy squeak the dragon moved in her direction.

Helena hurriedly moved to catch the dragon before it tumbled of the nightstand and hurt itself.

The moment her right hand touched the dragon, a bolt of raw power shot through her hand, flew up her arm and into the rest of her body. She felt it burning her, changing her somehow.

She fell on the floor with a scream of pain and was unable to move for a while. When she collected herself she found the dragon's eyes staring into hers. She felt a surge of concern for herself... what?

She examined the feeling and found that it didn't belong to her but to the dragon. Somehow, their minds were linked.

She felt she should be feeling alarmed at this, considering her history, but she couldn't muster any emotion besides wonder.

A heavy knocking sound came from the door.

"My lady, are you alright?" She heard Seben yell from behind the door.

Hoping that the dragon could feel her thoughts as she could feel its, she tried to convey a need for it to be silent for a moment.

"Nothing to worry about, I just... stubbed my toe," Helena uttered in a strained voice.

"Well... okay, I got some numbing herbal remedy stashed away if you need it," he offered.

"It's okay, it already doesn't hurt anymore," Helena tried to reassure him. To the witch's relief, he left after that.

After a few moments, she tried to mentally tell the dragon that it didn't need be as quiet anymore.

The dragon proceeded to explore her room and she could sense its curiosity about everything that caught its attention.

Suddenly she heard a rumbling noise from the dragon. It looked around itself wildly trying to find the source of the sound.

 _Adorable,_ , Helena thought, making the typical female Aww sound for all things cute.

Guessing that the rumbling noise came from the dragon's stomach, she retrieved a piece of dried meat from her Mokeskin pouch.

The moment she pulled it out, the dragon's head snapped to it, and she could now feel its hunger through their link.

The dragon's head snapped the piece of meat out of her hand when it came within its range.

She could see it tearing at it with its rough tongue and made a note to herself never to let the dragon lick her.

Her situation had just become vastly more complicated she knew, but looking at the red dragon happily munching away, she couldn't find it in herself to bothered.

When she went to bed, the dragon climbed up into the bed with her and cuddled into her side.

 _No, I don't mind this at all._


	3. Godric

Helena slowly returned to consciousness with a heavy feeling on her chest.

She blearily opened her eyes and saw that the dragon was snoozing on her chest, with its head using one of her breasts as a cushion.

The moment the dragon noticed that she was awake it jumped from her to the floor and began squeaking excitedly.

Helena felt a smile tucking at the corners of her lips.

She turned to look at the palm of her right hand. When she had touched the dragon yesterday, a mark had appeared on it. It was of a spiral design that ended with a dragon's head in the middle.

What truly had Helena puzzled though, was that it felt like a wand to her. A wand that was even more attuned to her than her old holly wand if she was any judge.

Wanting to test her hypothesis she waved her hand in the direction of her Mokeskin pouch and shouted, "Accio!"

Helena just barely managed to dodge the bag as it launched itself at her head like a bludger.

After a few more careful experiments she deduce that all her spells where being greatly overpowered.

 _I think I best wait for a bit until I try Apparating home,_ she thought to herself. Apparating did require some control.

In the meantime, she had a dragon to take care of.

She had read a little about the Riders of old in Jeod's books and so knew she had just become one.

Galbatorix was the only other living Rider left after he had killed all the others; the Foresworn, riders loyal to Galbatorix, having died out a little over fourteen years ago.

Looking at the young dragon making a ruckus in her room, she decided that she wasn't going to be able to keep it in her room. Not if she wanted to keep it a secret. The king would no doubt want to kill or recruit her if he found out.

She needed to get the dragon out of Teirm without being seen. The guards would have no reason to stop her from going to and from the city, but she didn't want anybody to get curious.

She took out some gold coins from her bag and started to practice the disillusionment charm. It was difficult work since, while her power had increased, her control was almost completely gone. It took most of the day and by the end she was sure her room was littered with invisible galleons.

She also turned the furniture in her room invisible. She was going to have to fix that at some point and keep her door locked up in the meantime. She told the dragon to not make too much noise in the meantime.

While she did know the Sound-Proofing charm she wasn't so experienced with it that she wanted to try it out under these conditions. She might silence the whole building if she wasn't careful.

When she felt confident enough to cast a stable disillusionment, it was too late to go out and still come back before the gates closed for the night.

She chose to spend the rest of the evening looking look through her personal library to discover more about her new companion.

Not much was known about four legged dragons apparently. They were originally known as the only true dragons. Its two-legged counterpart were known as wyverns, but since the extinction of the true dragons they were simply called dragons by most. The last of them had ostensibly been killed somewhere in 14th century. Her books mentioned that they were a lot smarter than their two legged counterparts and were rumored to be capable of casting magic.

She felt a wisp of hot breath brush past her face and found the dragon trying to look over her shoulder at the page.

"I don't think you're ready to start reading yet, little one". Helena smiled at the dragon. Although, she suspected it would eventually be capable of learning how to read if it wanted.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When the sun rose the next day, she took out a reserve blanket from her Mokeskin pouch, briefly lamenting that it couldn't hold anything alive and save her the trouble, and turned it into a makeshift backpack.

The dragon was reluctant to get in, until she told it she was going to take it outside. It was very eager to cooperative from then on.

Once the dragon was safely stacked away, she disillusioned the bag and left the room. Using both her key and magic to lock the door shut behind her. The furniture was still invisible.

When she got close to the gate, she moved into an abandoned ally, and thought about disillusioning herself as well. After some consideration she decided against it since it would mean having the sneak back inside as well if she wanted to avoid awkward questions. Instead when the guards asked her where she was going, she lied about wanting to spend some time at the beach. They obviously considered her weird but didn't make a problem out of it so long as she promised to stay close to the city, for own safety.

After traveling a little over an hour, she stopped in a forest clearing that was hopefully out of the way enough to avoid detection.

She briefly used her husky form's excellent sense of smell to make sure humans hadn't come anywhere near here in a long time.

She untied her backpack and the dragon jumped out and arched its back, enjoying the sunlight on its scales. Helena thought it looked remarkably like a cat doing that.

The dragon then proceeded to explore the area with Helena trailing behind it.

When the dragon was about to snap at the leaves of an oleander plant, which Helena knew to be poisonous, she shouted out and sent the dragon the mental feeling of 'danger', and after a few moments, was able to explain that it was a 'bad' plant.

The day continued on like that with the dragon enjoying its new freedom, with Helena warning it whenever it was about to do something that could be dangerous, with the dragon occasionally ignoring her advice to the witch's amused consternation.

When the sun indicated she only had few hours of sunlight left, she started to build a small nest for the dragon in one of the nearby pine trees.

If she could have used magic, she could have finished the work in minutes. But she took joy in the purpose of her task, so that wasn't a problem.

She kept up a one-sided conversation with the dragon where she explained what she was doing and why. She knew the dragon was as happy and excited as any child who knew it was about to receive a gift.

When it became time for her to leave, at least if she wanted to make it back to Teirm before nightfall, she bound the dragon to the tree, leaving enough lose rope so it wouldn't feel too restricted.

When the dragon understood it was about to leave it started to wine pitifully at her.

She tried to reassure it that she was coming back, but wasn't sure the dragon understood her in its distress.

The bond that bound their thoughts together got weaker and weaker until finally she could no longer feel the dragons mind.

Helena couldn't remember a time she had felt more alone.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When she went to sleep for the night she was plagued by dreams of vicious animals attacking the dragon.

Of selfish people discovering the dragon and shipping it off to Galbatorix for a reward.

She woke up several times during the night and barely got any sleep.

She left the inn before the sun was up and ended up waiting for half an hour for the city gate to open before she could hurry back towards the clearing.

When she got close enough to feel the dragon's thoughts again she gave it the mental equivalent of a bear hug.

Helena knew the dragon had slept no better then she had.

She continued practicing to get her magic back under control and just enjoyed spending time in the company of the dragon. When she left the dragon, it - while still sad - wasn't as panicky as last time. It had learned that she would come back.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Life settled into a comfortable routine.

She visited the dragon every day and marveled at it's growth. In one week it had grown twice its original size. It quickly outgrew the small nest she had made in the pine tree, so she made a new shelter on the ground.

As practice, she only used her magic to levitate the various materials about. The dragon had a great time jumping at all the floating twigs.

With every passing day she felt the mental connection between them grow a bit stronger. Soon she guessed she would be able to talk to it all the way from Teirm. After the third week, the dragon spoke to her for the first time in words instead of feelings and impressions.

 _'What is my name?'_ She heard in a soft deep rumble from within her mind.

She absently noticed that the dragon had picked up her own British accent.

Helena felt guilty that she hadn't thought to give the dragon a name yet. It seemed foolish in retrospect.

After a quick inquiry where she asked the dragon if it was male whereupon she felt quite silly because _of course_ he is male. She began thinking of possible names. She decided to go with names of famous wizards. It wasn't perfect but it was the best she could do.

She offered Merwyn, Xavier, Archibald, Edgar, Gifford, Grogan, Ulric and various others but the dragon rejected them all.

Helena was just starting to get frustrated when she thought of the founder of her own house in Hogwarts.

"What about Godric?" Helena offered, "He was the founder of my old house in Hogwarts and his name is associated with Bravery and Chivalry."

 _'Godric…_ ' The dragon seemed to taste the name. _'Yes! I am Godric.'_

Godric jumped up, standings on its hind legs, spread his wings wide and roared – though it was still little more than a squeak – as if proudly proclaiming its name to the world. _'I. Am. Godric!'_

Needless to say, Helena could tell that Godric was pleased and was quite proud of herself.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

A few days later at 10 AM in the morning by her best estimate – clocks weren't common here, so she only had the position of the sun to go on – she stood in the clearing with Godric, and did her best to concentrate on the three D's as she prepared to Apparate.

Godric stood a little distance off from her, looking curious.

She smiled reassuringly at him. "Don't worry, if I succeed I will come back to take you with me next time. It is too dangerous to take you with me on my first attempt."

Godric didn't look happy when she said that what she was doing was potentially dangerous.

To be perfectly honest, she still didn't think she was completely ready for this. She still wasn't anywhere near her previous mastery of her magic, but she couldn't put it off any longer. Her friends must be worried sick about her.

Her destination was a small out of the way campsite that they had used during their Horcrux hunt. It wasn't close to any form of civilization so she wouldn't immediately be able to contact her friends like she wanted to, but she was very familiar with it and, to maximize success, she wanted a place that she could picture very clearly. She would have used 4 Private Drive if that didn't have a high risk of being noticed by muggles.

She disapparated without a problem and–– promptly smashed into an immovable wall. She bounced back and landed, hard, with her bum on the cold wet ground.

She let out a long drawn out groan of pain, feeling bruised all over. Godric had jumped to her side and was squeaking in distress. _'Hurt! Dearest One is hurt! Stupid Helena, no reckless!'_ she could hear him think at her. He was getting better at 'talking' in complete sentences, but he occasionally still forgot a word or two.

 _That didn't feel like an Anti-Apparition wards,_ she mused once she had regained her bearings. She sat herself upright and started scratching Godric's neck to calm him down. _Guess I won't be leaving any time soon after all._

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When she felt their link was strong enough to contact Godric all the way from Teirm, she started to spend more time in the city again.

At the moment, she was looking through Jeod's library, looking for information on the Dragon Riders.

Helena still had a standing invitation, so she had no problems getting in.

She hadn't encountered much during her earlier reading, but she hadn't been specifically looking for it back then.

"Back again I see," an amused voice came from behind her. She looked behind her, and found Joed standing in the doorway. "You know, if you tell me what you're looking for I could probably point you in the right direction. Nobody knows the content of my collection better then myself after all."

Helena thought about it for a moment and decided there was no harm in telling.

"I have been looking for information on dragons and the Riders," Helena admitted.

"Dragons and Riders!" Jeod exclaimed "Helena dear, just what have you been researching."

"I want to better understand the empire. I know the king is a Rider, but little seems to be known about them," Helena lied, feeling guilty for doing so.

"I see," Jeod mused, his brows furrowed. "Helena, if I may ask, you are not from the empire are you."

Helena considered how far she was willing to trust Jeod.

She liked him; he was intelligent and seemed to have a good heart. When news had reached him that one of his ships had gone missing at sea his first thought was about the fate of the sailors rather than his own loss of fortune. With his love of books and strong sense of right and wrong he reminded her off a strange mix between Remus – mostly due to his calm demeanor and worn out look – and Hermione.

Helena felt a pang of homesickness when she thought of her bushy haired friend, but this wasn't the time.

"No I am not," Helena admitted in a small voice. "I am from somewhere far away and I don't know how to get back."

"I see." Jeod nodded, but didn't question her further on the matter.

"Well, there isn't much I can tell you about the Riders," Jeod admitted. "Even before their fall they were a secretive order. All I know is that they had strange powers and led very long lives. They used to serve the people of all nations both elven, men, and even the wild dragons as peace keepers."

"I noticed you didn't mention the dwarves," Helena pointed out.

She had come across mentions of dwarves in her research before. Just like the elves they seemed to have much in common with the dwarves from popular muggle fantasy literature.

"The dwarves and the dragons have never really gotten along with one another, and by extension, they weren't fond of the Riders either. There has also never been a dwarven Rider before," Jeod explained.

"I see," Helena muttered. It wasn't as useful as she had hoped, but it was better than nothing. At least she knew not to expect a warm welcome if she where to ever encounter the dwarves.

"Helena, I strongly advise you to exercise caution when you talk about the Riders. The king does not like talk of them, and his senses are sharp." Jeod looked at her seriously.

"I don't know how you stand it. Living under Galbatorix, I mean." Helena imagined this must be what it was like if Voldemort had won back at home. A ruler that cared nothing for the people under him, strict censorship of all information that could undermine him. His soldiers seemed to be above the law and she had even heard that slavery was practiced in some places within the empire.

Jeod looked around himself nervously, leaned in a bit closer, and then spoke whispered softly. "Not everyone does, there is a not so small group of rebels called the Varden, whom have made it their mission to overthrow Galbatorix and undermine the empire wherever they can."

"I am glad to hear that." Helena approved, glad to hear that evil wasn't completely unopposed.

Jeod nodded. "Just know that they are doing their best, and again, be careful with whom you speak of such things."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Helena stood in front of the a rather unusual shop, unusual in that it wasn't located in the merchant's district by the wall. The shop belonged to a woman called Angela the herbalist.

She had been debating with herself for the past few minutes on whether or not it was a good idea to enter.

It was Jeod's wife, Helen, that brought the shop to Helena's attention.

Once Helen had gotten used to Helena's presence and that she wasn't out to seduce or otherwise take advantage of her husband, they had started a tentative friendship.

Helen seemed to be taking her husband's bout of bad fortune even worse than Jeod himself was. Helen, born to a rich merchant family and used to luxury, feared for her continued lifestyle. Beyond that, all of Helen's old friends seemed to be avoiding her now, thinking that her family's bad luck was contagious.

 _Like slytherins abandoning someone once they are no longer useful,_ Helena thought sardonically.

Helen needed a sympathetic ear and Helena, being somewhat lonely herself, was willing to listen. Godric was great, but he was different. Helen was a bit too snobby for Helena's taste, but she tried to look past that.

Helen had mentioned the shop in passing, saying that some of her old associates used it to buy love potions. Helena knew that to brew a legitimate love potion you needed to have at least some magical talent and therein lay the complication. Helena was terribly curious about whether this shop was an actual magical potions shop or simply a hoax meant to swindle rich fools from their coin. Helen seemed to the think the woman a fraud, but Angela could just be trying to bank on a false negative reputation to keep out of the King's sight.

Or she could just be a charlatan; there was only one way to find out.

'Godric, do you mind if come a bit later today; There is this shop that I would like to check out,' Helena reached out to the dragon's mind.

'It's already almost noon,' he complained. That was usually the time during which she visited him.

'I will bring you some fish from the market,' she tried to bribe him.

'What kind of fish?'

'Pink salmons, your favorite.' She occasionally brought a new snack for him from the market and salmons seemed to be his favorite so far.

She probably shouldn't spoil him so much, but she just couldn't help herself.

Godric seemed to think about it for a few moments and then conceded reluctantly. 'Fine, but they had better be fresh and not some small shrimps.'

'I will make sure to look for the biggest fattest ones I can find,' came Helena's amused reply.

With the mental equivalent of a snort, Godric cut the connection.

He really can act a bit spoiled, she thought fondly to herself.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When she entered the store and closed the door behind her, it took her eyes a while to adjust to the dim light. The leaves outside the window filtered the incoming light, casting the entire room in a faint green tinge. The walls, floor, and ceiling were covered in plants. Helena recognized a few of them as possible potion ingredients.

There were a couple of sealed scrolls haphazardly strewn about the floor and some strange devices whose purposes she couldn't guess at stood behind the counter.

A large crystal ball stood on the counter. For old times' sake Helena decided to look into it and, as expected, saw nothing but her foggy reflection.

Suddenly, Helena felt an alien presence brush against her mind.

She quickly tried to clear her mind and started to back away toward the exit.

'There is no need to be scared, I have no intention to harm you,' she heard the presence 'speak'.

From a wooden support beam jumped a black cat down unto the floor. Its angular face was surrounded by a mane, like a lion's. Its paws looked too large for a cat and it looked at her with intelligent red eyes. The eyes made her a bit nervous actually, but she tried her best not to show it.

"Were you the one who just spoke?" She asked the 'cat'. Feeling just lightly ridiculous for doing so.

'Who else?'

'I didn't know cats could talk around here.' Helena decided to continue the conversation in her mind.

'They can't,' it drawled. His tone clearly indicated that the very notion was ridiculous and she was stupid for thinking it.

'So, you are not a cat then?' Helena, still somewhat nonplussed.

'Obviously.' Again, with that note of condescension that reminded her of Snape.

'So what are you then?'

'I am a werecat. I am surprised you have never heard of us before'.

'well…. I am not exactly from around here,' Helena defended.

'So I have gathered.' This was starting to get annoying, but she knew getting angry wouldn't help. It rarely did.

'Are you perhaps related to the werewolf?' Helena inquired.

'A werewolf!' It exclaimed, its hairs standing on end. 'I can't say I have ever had the displeasure of encountering such a creature, or indeed, even hearing of one, but I am sure that we are not related to them,' It denied vehemently.

'Well… my name is Helena. What's your name?' Helena decided she wanted to be the bigger woman and stay polite.

'I go by many names. If you are asking for my true name, you will be waiting till the end of time however, you may call me Solembum. Now, I have told you what I am but you haven't told me what you are.'

'What are you talking about? You can clearly see I am a human,' Helena said, somewhat puzzled.

'Humans I know. They are everywhere and are overall quite boring; rarely seeing what is right under their noses. You may look like them, but your mind betrays your nature.'

Helena was more than a bit perturbed by that. 'Not human? What else could I be?'

'That was my question.'

'I don't know,' Helena shrugged helplessly. 'I consider myself human, that's all I can say.'

'A mystery. Interesting, I did not expect that one of the new generation of riders to be so unusual. It will be interesting to see; I am sure'.

Helena took a single step back and her muscles tensed. 'You know I am a Rider?' How did he know?

'The signs are there for those that know what to look for. Do not fret. I have no reason to reveal your secrets,' assured Solembum.

'You have met other Riders before?' Helena said, still somewhat shocked but also excited. If Solembum was old enough to have known Riders; oh the things he could tell her!

'I remember them, but don't get your tail all tangled up, I cannot teach you the things you need to know, but I may yet offer some help,' Solembum spoke and then began to chant:

'When the time comes and you need a weapon, look under the roots of the Menoa tree. Then, when all seems lost and your power is insufficient, go to the rock of Kuthian and speak your name to open the Vault of Souls.'

After that, Solembum jumped outside out of a slightly opened window, apparently deciding to end the conversation before Helena could ask for clarification.

 _This sounds like prophecy, lovely, at least this one sounds potentially useful,_ Helena thought to herself.

Helena just stood there for a minute. Trying to make sense of the conversation she had just had when the door opened behind her and a woman entered.

When her eyes fell on her Helena stiffened. "Hermione?"

The woman leaned slightly backwards. "What?"

Helena took a closer look and saw that she was mistaken. While this woman had the same long curly brown hair and hazel eyes, she was slightly shorter than Hermione, about the same height as Helena herself. Her facial features where also different. Her cheekbones where higher, the angles of her face sharper, and her nose was smaller.

Hermione also wouldn't be carrying a toad around in her hands. Probably.

Helena winced slightly when she realized her faux pas. "Sorry, I mistook you for someone else."

"Oh, I get that all the time." The woman laughed. "This is my shop you are standing in, by the way."

"The door wasn't locked," Helena said defensively.

"Don't worry, we both know you weren't in there alone. You met Solembum, didn't you? He spoke to you," said the woman Helena could now identify as Angela the herbalist.

"He doesn't do that often, you see," Angela continued. "You are only the third customer he has ever spoken to. He says you are interesting, which is probably one of the biggest compliments he could give you. You should feel flattered. Anyway, can I help you with something? I have some amazing odors for sale, or a love potion maybe?" The energetic woman winked at her.

"Actually, I came here just to see what sort of ingredients you had in stock," Helena said as she let her eyes wander over all the plants. Also to figure out the nature of this Angela person, but she didn't need to know that.

"ho ho ho! a fellow brewer are you? Say, what would you add to a potion to sharpen your wit, the tail feather of snowy owl or a spotted owl?" Angela asked. She leaned forward as if to better hear her answer. She was so close it almost counted as an invasion of privacy, and Helena instinctively leaned backwards.

"Neither, the horned owls tail feather would serve better. The snowy owl's would be better for a warming draught and the spotted owl's for a sleeping draught," Helena answered.

Angela looked impressed, whistled and put her left hand on her hip. The other hand was still holding a toad. "Nice, you must be a master brewer indeed."

Helena scoffed at that notion. "hardly, I just know some good recipes."

Angela hummed to herself for a bit. "Would you like your fortune told? I can do that too; it's quite popular with all the influential ladies of Teirm. Free of charge even. Solembum says you are interesting and that makes me curious as well. For you I will even do a true foretelling instead of the nonsense I usually tell people," Angela offered.

"Thank you, but divination and I have never really gotten along," Helena refused firmly.

"You just keep getting more interesting." Angela pouted. "A pity you won't let me read you. Well is there anything else I can help you with?"

"One more thing. I have to ask; Why are you holding a toad in your hand?" She was somewhat impressed at how Angela could make holding a toad in her palm look so normal. She had almost forgotten to ask about it because of that.

Angela seemed very glad that she had asked judging by how her eyes lit up. "Oh, I just recently found him. It's actually a frog. You see, I am going to prove that toads don't exist. If I can prove that there are only frogs and that toads don't exist, then they won't be able to do anything bad! No teeth falling out, no causing warts, no poison or killing people! Also, witches won't be able to use them in them to brew poisons or use them in evil spells or rituals because, of course, there won't be any toads around."

 _You and Luna would get along famously,_ Helena mused to herself.

Knowing that is was pointless to argue she decided to take her leave.

"Well that is interesting and all, but it is getting late and I have an appointment to keep. Bye." And she hurried out the door.

"Come back any time! I am always starving for good conversation," she heard the herbalist shout after her.


	4. Eragon interlude I

Eragon's last few weeks have been a bit of a bummer.

Just three months back he had been an ordinary farm born, in an ordinary village, in a far-off corner of the empire that was too unimportant for anyone of note to really take an interest in.

Since then, his uncle Garrow had been murdered by monsters, and Eragon had sworn revenge on his killers, leaving behind the only home he has ever known.

All of this trouble began when Eragon found a blue stone – later discovered to be an egg – in the Spine. A Dragon hatched from the egg, and Eragon decided to hide it away in a nearby forest, raising it in secret.

He ended up naming the dragon Saphira.

When the Ra'zac came looking for the egg, their search led them to Eragon's home where the monsters killed Garrow.

It is reasonable to say that If he had never found the egg, or if he hadn't decided to keep the dragon, none of this tragedy would have happened.

Yet Eragon could not say that he wouldn't make those same choices again.

Oh he wished that he hadn't brought danger down upon his family, but he just couldn't imagine his life without Saphira anymore. They were connected in ways more intimate then Eragon had thought possible. Eragon could no more image his life without her, than he could imagine tearing out his own eyeballs.

He teamed up with a suspiciously knowledgeable storyteller named Brom. They left a note of warning for his cousin Roran to stay away from the Ra'zac if they were to return.

While on the road Brom taught him sword fighting - also giving him a really awesome magical sword that Brom had for _some_ reason - and when Eragon discovers that he (Eragon) could do magic, Brom started instructing him in that as well.

As previously mentioned: suspiciously knowledgeable.

They tracked the Ra'zac across half the northern part of the empire, but eventually lost the trail when they discover the blasted things have _flying mounts_! Upon finding a flask of Seithr oil - An extremely corrosive substance used for assassination and torture, at least this variant of it – Eragon came up with a plan to continue the chase.  
The substance is so rare and valuable that Eragon and Brom reasoned that there _must_ be some records of where the stuff is being shipped off to, which would hopefully lead them to the Ra'zac.  
Thus they traveled to Teirm, as it controls most of the trade in the empire, and Brom has an old friend named Jeod who lives there who could hopefully help them.

Which led them to where they were now; Talking to some crazy toad lady because they needed directions to Jeod's home.

"So _when_ I prove that toads don't exist they won't be able to make peoples teeth fall out, cause warts or kill anyone. Also, no more evil magics and potions. This will save countless lives I tell you!" The woman argued animatedly, arms moving wildly about her to punctuate her words.

"I see." Brom nodded, as if what she said made perfect sense. "that sounds interesting, and I would love to hear more, but we really do need to meet Jeod."  
 _  
_"Of course." The woman waved them away, looking only slightly disappointed, and returned to writing on a piece of paper and occasionally glancing at the toad… frog…. Whatever.

Once they were out of earshot, Eragon said, "She's crazy!"

"It's possible," admitted Brom _,_ "but you never know; she might discover something useful, so don't criticize. Who knows, toads might really be frogs."

"And you could be over a hundred years old, and that would less crazy," retorted Eragon.

Brom's lips twitched for some reason.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When Eragon stepped onto the marble doorstep that led to Jeod's estate, the door flew open and a woman dressed in a black robe with dark purple sleeves bumped into him.

Out of reflex he reached out and grabbed her hand to prevent her falling.

Eragon's breath caught in his throat; she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

Thin and lean, she was on the short side; the top of her head coming up at just below his own neck. Her ivory white skin accentuated her full red lips, a faded lighting bold scar on her forehead was the only thing that marred her otherwise perfect face. Her silky black hair grew smoothly to just below her shoulder and Eragon wondered how it would feel to run his hand through them.

Her most noticeable feature were her eyes though; they were the most vivid green eyes he had ever seen, and held a energy in them that he had trouble explaining.

Eragon felt Saphira's amusement at his reaction through their bond.

"Sorry, didn't look where I was going there for a second," Eragon was surprised at how deep her voice was. It was nice to hear though, having a warm breathy quality to it. There was an unfamiliar accent to her words which made her voice sound sophisticated and light. That, combined with her fine clothes, added to the image of a lady of standing.

"uhm." Eragon responded eloquently, feeling the blood rushing to his cheeks.

 _'Say something, quickly,'_ Saphira prodded in his mind.

"You look nice," Eragon said in a tone of voice that sounded wooden, even to his own ears.

 _'Smooth.'_

 _'Hush you.'_  
 _  
_Judging by the amused smile that appeared on her face she wasn't creeped out or bothered. _'Thank goodness,'_ he thought.

"thank you," She said simply. Her eyes flicked downwards. Eragon didn't follow her gaze though, he was still too mesmerized by her eyes. "May I have my hand back please?"  
 _  
_It took him a moment to register that she had asked a question, he seemed to have trouble thinking clearly. "Your hand?"  
 _  
_"My hand. the one you're holding?" she retorted dryly.

His eyes finally moved downwards to notice that, yes, he was indeed holding her hand. Eragon let go of it as if it were on fire.

Brom decided to step in at this point and save him from any further embarrassment. "Does Jeod live here," he asked kindly.

"He sure does," she said, "I need to get going, see ye!" She waved as she moved away in a light jog.

Eragon looked wistfully at her retreating back.

Brom looked at him sharply. "Don't even think about it."

"Think what?" Eragon asked, looking confused.

"You know what I mean." Brom smirked briefly before his expression turned serious again. "A blind man could see how you were pining after her. She does 'look nice' as you put it, though a bit scrawny," Eragon had to bite down a retort that she was most certainly not scrawny! "But we are here to look for the Seithr oil, nothing else."

Eragon knew he was right, but that didn't stop him from feeling morose about it.

Brom knocked three times on the door. After only a short wait, a pale woman with light blond hair opened the door with a dramatic sigh.

"Dear you know you can just. . ." She stopped short when her eyes fell on them, and her expression immediately became guarded.

"Yes, can I help you?" She asked neutrally.

"We would like to talk to Jeod." Brom answered in his best polite and pleasant voice that made him so popular as a story teller in Carvahall.

"He is very busy, do you have an appointment?" She asked coolly.  
 _  
_"No, but we have traveled far, and it is very important that we speak with him," he insisted.  
 _  
_"He is very busy," She repeated, narrowing her eyes.

Brom's voice stayed charming despite the clear hostility. "Since he is unavailable, would you please give him a message?"

She gave him a small reluctant nod.

"Tell him that a friend from Gil'ead is waiting outside," Brom said.

The woman sighed tiredly "Very well," she said, and went back inside the house, closing the door behind her.

When her footsteps could no longer be heard Eragon decided to comment, "That wasn't very polite of her."

"Keep your opinions to yourself," snapped Brom. "And don't say anything. Let me do the talking." He crossed his arms and started tapping his fingers, waiting. Eragon, still feeling a bit chastised, kept silent and looked away.

A tall man with expensive but rumpled clothes opened the door.

Eragon's first thought upon seeing him was that he needed to rest more; his gray hair was unkempt and there were noticeable shadows under his eyes.

At the sight of them his jaw dropped open, speechless. He just stood there for several moments, gaping like fish. He rubbed his eyes once, seemingly not trusting what his senses were telling him, and eventually asked incredulously, "Brom?"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

They moved over to the citadel where its tick stone walls would insure they wouldn't be overheard.

Jeod and Brom were catching up, but because Eragon was there, they were using vague terms like ' _what_ happened', 'found _it_ **',** and 'our _friends_ '.  
 _  
He doesn't trust me, not completely. He asks that I put my life in his hands yet he keeps secrets from me,_ Eragon thought irritably. At least they did come up with a plan to find the records that could lead them to the Ra'zac. If all went well they would be on the road again in a few days.

Brom turned to look at Eragon. "Could you go check on the horses and make sure they're all right? I don't think I tied Snowfire to the ring tightly enough."

 _The moment I leave they're going to talk about whatever it is they don't want me to know,_ Eragon thought in annoyance.  
 _  
_Deciding that it wasn't fair that they kept him in the dark, he used one of the spells Brom had thought him to listen in on the conversation from outside the courtyard.

There was talk of a queen, of dwarves, and of a possible traitor causing trouble for Jeod and other traders for helping people the Empire doesn't favor. There was some more shocking stuff about Brom finding something in Gil'ead and needing to hide in Carvahall – _Is Brom a fugitive of some sort?_ – Even allowing his own friend to think he was dead for almost twenty years.

Without more context though, Eragon couldn't make sense of any of it, but he resolved to ask Brom once they were out of Teirm.

As they reentered the main body of Teirm, Brom said, "So, Jeod, you finally got married. And," he winked slyly, "to a lovely young woman. Congratulations."

Eragon knew that they were talking about that rude blonde woman who answered the door before. He thought she _could_ have been lovely but the facial expression, as if she was smelling something foul, ruined it, but dutifully kept his mouth shut.

Jeod seemed happy with the compliment though. "Thank you, though there has been some trouble lately. Could be worse though," He shrugged.

"Why? Is something wrong with her?" asked Brom.

"Not as such. The problem is that she comes from a wealthy family, and her father has invested heavily in my business. If I keep suffering these losses, there won't be enough money for her to live the way she's used to." He said with slumped shoulders. "Like I said, it could be worse. Helen seems to have found a new friend recently. A young woman that wanted to take a look at my collection of books, who often visits the estate." Jeod smiled. 'It is so nice to see someone who shares my appreciation for the written word. Still, I am afraid it will get worse if my situation doesn't get better soon."

Eragon perked up in interest. "Short, black hair and green eyes?" he asked, not bothering to hide his interest.

He noticed and ignored Brom robbing his forehead as if he suddenly had a headache.

"Why yes, have you met her?" Joed asked, perking up a bit.

"We ran into her just before we came to you, we didn't catch her name." Eragon decided to use the opportunity to learn more about the woman. Those sparkling emerald eyes just wouldn't leave his mind.

"Her name is Helena; you will probably see her occasionally if you stay at the estate," Jeod said.

 _Helena,_ he repeated the name a few times in his head. Just one small sound different from Helen, but while Helen sounds short and brusque, Helena sounded beautiful. He also noted it was also only one sound different form the name of his own mother, Selena ass well.  
 _  
_"Now, none of that!" Brom spoke up, "Eragon! remember why we are here."

There was nothing like thinking about the Ra'zac that could so quickly destroy his good mood. "Trust me, I won't forget," said Eragon through clenched teeth.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Eragon woke up the next morning to discover that both Bron and Joed had left for the citadel without him. They left a message with the butler saying that that he could use the day however he wished, while they tried to get access to the shipping records.

Eragon eagerly began to explore Teirm.

He walked towards one of the busier sections of Teirm, nobody paying him any attention. Back in Carvahall everybody knew everybody, and whenever there where strangers they were treated with a healthy dose of distrust.  
Here in Teirm nobody knew him, but they didn't seem to care. He found it a little odd to be honest, but he supposed it was a good thing as he wasn't supposed to draw any attention to himself.

He arrived at a big market square with – despite it being larger than any market he had ever seen – lots of small stands cramped tightly together, leaving hardly any space between them. Everybody was razing their voice to be heard over everybody else's razed voices, the result being a giant cacophony of noise that left him a bit dizzy.

He jumped slightly when he felt a hand his shoulder.

He turned and looked upon a chestnut blonde woman with creamy beige skin. Her lips where covered in a flame colored paint, and her cheeks were powdered slightly pink.  
His eyes were drawn to the low neck cut of her dress. He quickly averted his eyes when he noticed just _how_ _low_ the cut was.

The woman chuckled at his reaction. "Hello sweetie, can I interest you in some company maybe," she spoke in a light husky voice.

"Uhm, I - I don't think," He sputtered.

The woman smiled slyly and opened her mouth, but another voice stopped her.

"Back of Marta, you daft bimbo! Can't you see he's just a kid!" boomed a familiar voice from nearby.

Eragon had no idea what a 'daft bimbo' was, but it probably wasn't a compliment judging by how Marta glared, her face red, at the approaching figure of Helena.

Eragon bristled a little at her words. _I am not just a kid! I am almost sixteen years old!_

Helena shooed the other woman away with some large waves of her arms, and then turned to him.

Eragon spoke up first, his brows furrowed and voiced his previous indignant thought.

Helena raised an eyebrow, "Well, did you want to be entertained by that tart?"

"well…. no." Eragon said somewhat embarrassed, cheeks heating up at the thought of the other woman. They didn't have woman off _that_ profession in Carvahall.

Helena smiled and spoke slowly, "then just say, thank you."

After taking a breath and regaining his composure he donned a smile; she had tried to help him after all. "thank you."

Helena nodded. "Your welcome. I was just returning from one of the fish stalls. A friends of mine is absolutely addicted to the things and asked that I bring some for him."

 _She isn't wearing a bag though, just a small fine pouch that nobody would ever store fish in,_ noted Eragon.

"Well it was nice seeing you again," Helena continued, "Have fun exploring the market. Make sure that you check out the stall with the blue drapery down that corner," she pointed a gloved hand westward, "it sells a… well I don't actually know what it's made out off. It tastes delicious though. See ye."

"Wait," said Eragon before she could walk away.

"hmm?" she hummed, waiting for him to continue.

 _There is no harm, is there?_

"I got the day off, mind if we hang out for a while?" Eragon asked nonchalantly, trying not to sound too eager or hopeful about it.

She turned to stare into the distant sky for a while, probably thinking that she had better things to do than to spend time with total stran–––

"Sure why not," Her face sported a wry smile. He must have looked surprised for she elaborated, "I don't have anything pressing to do, so I might as well show you around. What's your name kid?"

He couldn't help but glare at her. "I told you I am not just a––"

"Almost sixteen, okay yea, I got it, you're a big man." She rolled her eyes "So what is your name, you big, strong tough guy, you" She asked with a slight mocking smirk.

Still somewhat annoyed, Eragon gave the alias that Brom told him to use. "I am Evan."

"Pleased to meet you Evan. My name is Helena, and for the next few hours, you are in my capable hands." Her smirk grew more mischievous.

Eragon started to feel just the tiniest bit unsure about this whole thing.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

His fears turned out to unfounded; he had a great time.

They visited the stall that Helena had recommended earlier, and they found out that the snack that it sold was made out of some sea animal called a 'octopus'. It didn't sound at all appetizing when the animal was described to him, but Helena nodded encouragingly, so he was willing to give it a try. It tasted wonderful.

Helena dragged him all over Teirm, seeing the sights, marveling and commenting on the goods being traded from far of places. There were a few times that she tried to pay things for him, but he insisted on paying for his own expenses.  
She just rolled his eyes at his obstinacy, something that made Eragon feel somewhat jealous.  
Garrow, Roran and him had never had the luxury of not having to worry about money. If they didn't have enough coin before winter, then they would have to go hungry, or suffer the indignity of asking others for free food. They took pride in being able to take care of themselves.

Helena was also unlike any other woman that he had ever met.

The woman of Carvahall prided themselves on their reputation, and always tried to present an image of kindness and demureness. Helena was kind, he had noticed her drop a small coin at the feet of some urchin when she thought he wasn't looking, but there was also a directness and callous disregard for what others thought of her.  
Or maybe she enjoyed being a pariah? It was hard to tell. Regardless, he found it refreshingly new. Though it did confuse him since it didn't mesh with the profile of a noble lady had built up around her.

"So why did you come to Teirm," Helena asked.

"My uncle Neal is visiting Jeod, their old friends. He took me along," Eragon gave the false story that he and Brom had prepared beforehand.

"What about your parents? They just let you go?" Helena wondered.

"Never knew them," he shrugged "I grew up with my uncle – not Neal, another uncle – but he died recently," He said,

Helena flinched visibly. "I am so sorry. I shouldn't have pried."

"You didn't know," he shrugged again. In truth he was still grieving about Garrow and it hurt to think of it, but she clearly regretted bringing it up and he didn't want to make her feel worse by showing it.

"How about you, do your parents not mind, you being here alone," he said wanting to change the subject to something less awkward.

"They died when I was very young," she said

 _So much for something less awkward. . ._

"It's alright though," she continued, "I've gotten over it, others told me lots about them, and I know they loved me."

Eragon felt envious at that. _That is more than I hav. My mother left me and I don't even know who my father is._

"Why did you come to Teirm though," he asked.

"Wasn't really my choice to come here, but it hasn't been so bad." she answered vaguely.

"What do you mean," he prodded.

"Life is weird sometimes," she continued to evade.

"How so?" he said, unwilling to drop it. All this evasion was making him even more curious!

She pondered the question for a few moments and then… "I used to live in Reavstone, a city in the south most part of Surda. My guardians wanted to marry me of to some ugly sixty-year-old man in a fiendish plot to rob me of the inheritance my parents left me. When it became clear I wasn't going to cooperate they locked me in a dungeon until they could bribe a priest to formalize the union. luckily, a few friends of mine busted me out, but I couldn't remain in the city, so I stowed away on the first ship leaving Reavstone I could find, and now I am here," she rattled off in a monotone voice.

"Really!" Eragon half shouted, horrified.

"No." She smiled impishly, and then raised her index finger in front of her nose as if imparting some great wisdom or secret, "but that's what happens when you press people for answers they don't want to give you. They lie."

Eragon couldn't decide if he was relieved or annoyed again.

Suddenly she stopped, gazing vacantly at the ground for a few moments.

Eragon was just about to ask if something was wrong when she turned to him.

"I am sorry Evan, I had a great time, but I need to get going. The time flew by faster then I realized. I promised to meet up with another friend later in the day, and it's getting late." He internally preened at the honest regret in her voice.

"It's alright, I should probably be heading back myself as well," he said, trying not to sound disappointed.

They said their goodbyes and Eragon left for Jeod's estate.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Eragon was beginning to think making a final stop at the herbalist's shop hadn't been such a great idea.

First he got shocked by some unknown magic rod, then he got mocked by a werecat, then Angela the shop's owner came in. She seemed surprised that Solembum spoke with him – "My my, he certainly has been chatty lately!" - she then offered to read his future.

After hearing that the only person who had ever agreed to the foretelling before bore the name of his mother, he had agreed to the offer.

She pulled out a set of dragon knucklebones – WHERE IN DAMNATION DID SHE GET THOSE! – that had strange symbols on it, and cast them while speaking words of power.

It started of nice enough; a long live is a definite plus.

Then she started to predict there was going to be blood, battle, and in general just a lot of people wanting them to do what _they_ want. Not a surprise, he supposed, but still not nice to hear.

Then things got even worse when she predicted that someone he cared about was going to die.

 _Who must I lose now?_ His thoughts immediately went to Roran. _Or worse, could it be Saphira?_ That thought frightened him more than anything else.

She also predicted that he was going to leave Alagaësia eventually, never to return. It would happen even if he tried to avoid it.

 _Well…. shit._

"Ah, this next bone seems to be a little more pleasant" Angela smiled "An epic romance is in your future, extraordinary, as the moon indicates – for that is a magical symbol – and strong enough to outlast empires. I cannot say if this passion will end happily or in tragedy, but your love is one of noble standing and heritage. She is powerful, driven, courageous and a great beauty besides. Why, you really lucked out there didn't you?! Even I am starting to get jealous, and I don't even _like_ woman!"

 _Of noble standing,_ thought Eragon in surprise. How is that possible? _I have no more standing than the poorest of farmers._

He wasn't going to think about that last part.

"Now for the last two bones, the tree and the holly bush, which cross each other in the middle. Another good omen. You are not as alone as you think, and will soon receive unexpected aid."

 _Now that is some good news,_ thought Eragon with relief. They could definitely use all the help they could get.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Eragon was just about to leave when Solembum blocked his path out by standing in the doorway.

'Yes?' asked Eragon.

'I suppose it cannot hurt to tell you this, just in case. Listen closely and I will tell you two things. When the time comes and you need a weapon…'

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Eragon stood in Jeod's study with Brom and Jeod.

"How did it go?" asked Eragon.

"Terrible!" barked Brom, clearly unhappy to say the least.

"So you talked to Brand?" Brand was the administrator of trade; so they had told Eragon.

"Not that it did any good," he said while glaring at nothing in particular and tapping his fingers on the table. "This Brand is the worst sort of bureaucrat. He insists that every rule be followed religiously, and seems to delight in making his own whenever it can inconvenience someone, and at the same time believes that he's doing good work."

"Then he won't let us see the records?" asked Eragon, fearing for his revenge.

"No," Brom said, sounding exasperated. "Nothing I could say would sway him. He even refused bribes, substantial ones even! I never thought I would ever meet a bureaucrat who isn't corrupt. Well I have met one now and I find that I much prefer them when they are greedy bastards. They may be sons of bitches, but at least you can manipulate them!" Brom took a calming breath. "So how was your day?"

"It was fine," Eragon shrugged

"Really?" Brom said skepticism oozing from his voice. "Just 'fine', you didn't spend the day following that young lady around?"

"How do you know about that?" Eragon challenged. The thought of Brom following him around all day as if he was some overprotective father protecting his son's virtue mortified him.

"I got a glance at you two on the way back. I told you not go look for her," Brom said through gritted teeth.

"You never said I couldn't talk to Helena. You just told me to remember why we are here," defended Eragon.

"That was heavily implied!" shouted Brom.

"Are you are talking about Helena?" Jeod chose to enter the argument. "Well you've got nothing to worry about Brom; Helena is very nice young woman."

"That's not the point," Brom sighed and turned to Eragon, "As soon as we have what we need, we are going to leave, and you will likely never see her again. I wanted to spare you any possible heartache."

That caused Eragon to come up short. _He is right,_ Eragon thought with gloom, _I will probably never see her again; Brom was just trying to protect me again._

"I didn't go look for her," Eragon said. "I was in the market district, and Helena chased away a prostitute for me. We chose to spend the day together afterwards."

He wasn't going to mention that it was _him_ that had asked _her_ out on what could subjectively be considered a romantic outing.

"Well, that's a bit better I suppose," Brom sighed again, "Anyway, I am going to take the next week to teach you how to read."

"And after that?"

A smile split Brom's face. "After that, we're going to give Brand a nasty surprise."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Eragon was just returning from one of his daily evening visits to Saphira when he spotted a short hooded figure approaching the gate.

The figures face was cast in shadow, but he could just make out a pair of emerald eyes that seemed to glow softly in the dark.

He recognized them immediately; there were no others like them.

She raised a gloved hand and even though the fabric he noticed a familiar ethereal glow.

'Saphira could that be. . .' he trailed of.

'I… I think it might be,' came her hesitant, but hopeful response.

'We need to tell Brom about this,' Eragon decided.

As he rushed back towards their residence Angela's words repeated themselves to him in his mind.

 _You are not as alone as you think._

* * *

AN: AN: Eragon's physical description of Helena is biased and should be taken with a grain of salt. He is anything but objective.


	5. awkward introductions

'I have been getting the feeling that I am being followed.'  
 _  
_Helena and Godric were at their usual spot in The Spine.

Helena was – as she had been doing for this past month – trying to wrestle her magic back under control. At the moment she was casting the severing charm at pieces of timber, trying to make the cuts as small as possible.

The severed pieces of wood lying about were a testament to how slow her progress has been.

Helena had found that the smaller spells, or spells that required a large amount of control, like certain charms or transfiguration, were more difficult now. Which was bad considering control was an attribute she had always struggled with and this just made it worse.

Beyond having gained more power at the cost of control, Helena felt that her magic had… mutated… shifted somehow.

First and least important: All her spells were now the red color of the disarming charm.

Second: She also felt that her wand – now hand – gestures and incantations were not as necessary as they used to be.  
They still definitely helped, but she got the feeling that she could, if she wanted to, use magic by pure force of will now. A much more controlled version of 'accidental' magic basically. Such a thing would be incredibly dangerous, perhaps even more so with her increased power, with any stray thought messing up the intended result, and she wasn't going to spend time on that while her normal magic was still acting funny. Once she got around to it though… oh she was going to have so much fun with this!

'Right now?' Godric asked, not sounding particularly concerned.

'Not now, but back in Teirm.'

It has been going on for a few days now. Every time she walked the streets of Teirm there was this prickling sensation in the back of her neck.

'You think you that Evans kid is stalking you?' Godric said in amusement.

'No, he rarely leaves Joed's estate,' Helena denied.

That date had been a fun distraction, but she hadn't exchanged any words with him after that. She didn't want to offer any more encouragement. While a bit young, Evan was a nice kid and didn't deserve to be dragged into whatever trouble her very existence represented – a free Dragon Rider.

She had seen him a couple of times in Jeod's study with his nose in the books, trying to learn how to read. When she had seen him there he had averted his eyes as if ashamed of his illiteracy, but Helena didn't think he had anything to be ashamed of. If he didn't know how to read yet, then nobody had bothered to teach him when he was young, and she thought it admirable that he was trying to make the effort now on his own. Helena doubted she would have the discipline or inclination if she were in his shoes.

'Have you seen, smelled, or heard anything suspicious?' Godric asked further.

'No. it's really just a feeling, _'_ Helena sighed, 'It's just instinct really, it might just be paranoia, but I like to think that I got a good nose for trouble at this point.'

'Instincts are important,' Godric agreed, 'but you must understand their source, know what is causing your unease, to make the best use of them, if not, then you are no different than an animal.'

'When did you get so wise,' Helena asked wryly.

'I am a dragon,' Godric said simply, as if that explained everyting.

 _And perhaps it does,_ Helena pondered. Godric's mental growth certainly had been supernatural. He seemed to just _know_ things that he had no way to have learned normally.

'Do you think somebody may have discovered you? Us?' Helena asked. She hoped Godric was right, and she was just being paranoid, but she couldn't help but worry.

'How?' he asked, 'I don't come anywhere near the city and nobody could follow you over the open plains without being seen.''

Helena though about it for a minute in silence. He was right, but still...

'All the same I think it may be time for us to move on from here. You can't stay here forever,' Helena decided.

Godric was now about the size of Hagrid's old hut and any creature that size is bound to draw attention eventually. He did make sure to never to come anywhere near Teirm, but eventually somebody was going to stumble upon a pile of dragon dung or something. She had done her best to vanish such things whenever possible - partly for the exercise - but eventually their luck would run out.

'I thought you liked Teirm?' Godric wondered.

'I love you more,' Helena said softly.

A feeling of tenderness and appreciation flowed through there link.

In the short time she had known him Godric had become more important to her then anything or anyone had before him. Ron and Hermione were wonderful, but she always had trouble confiding all her troubles, worries and doubts with anybody. This wasn't an issue with Godric, he shared her mind often enough that it was virtually impossible to keep anything from him. It should feel like a huge invasion of privacy, but somehow it wasn't.

'Where would we go?' Godric asked.

'As I see it, we have three options. One: we go to Surda to find humans not under Galbatorix rule. Two: we head to Du Weldenvarden and try to find the Elves or three: we leave Alagaësia altogether.'

'Why didn't you mention the Dwarves?' Godric asked. She was sure he already knew, but was just asking for completions sake.

'Ignoring that we have no reason to think they would welcome us; we have no idea where they are.'

They thought about for a while.

'Only one option really offers us safety in the short term,' Helena said slowly. Leave Alagaësia. Galbatorix didn't know about them yet, and if they left for shores unknown he likely never would.

'I don't like it,' Godric grumbled.

'Me neither,' Helena sighed.

Helena knew enough about this Galbatorix to know that he was megalomaniac bend on world domination. He also had driven the dragons to the brink of extinction. As far she knew, Godric was the only one left besides Shruikan, the one that the king has apparently broken to his will.

Godric wasn't going to let that go, and Helena knew enough about herself to know that she wasn't going to just leave for this problem to sort itself out.

'This isn't going to be easy,' Helena said with a frown, looking off towards the south-east, towards Urû'baen.

'I know,' Godric said, just as grim.

Galbatorix had destroyed an entire order of dragons and their riders, and they were just one pair. He was also ancient and had centuries of experience on them. Also, unlike last time, she didn't have her friends with her.

'You will have me,' Godric reassured.

Again, a feeling of warmth flowed through there link along with no small amount of protectiveness on Godric's part. It felt nice knowing someone worried that much about her. Other had worried about her in the past of course, but she hadn't _felt_ it like she felt it now.

'As I see it, our best bet would be to join up with the Varden,' Helena said.

'We don't know where they are, any more than the Dwarves,' Godric pointed out.

'If we go to Surda, I am sure somebody will be able to point us in their direction. They have to see the writing on the wall and know Galbatorix isn't going to ignore them forever. They would be stupid not to remaining in contact,' Helena reasoned.

'I am more worried that by joining up with them we will get entangled in their politics,' she continued. 'Everybody is going to want us to do what they want, by joining the Varden we might risk our independence.' Though that wasn't the only reason for her.

'I am sure it won't be so bad,' Godric said in amusement, having guessed the other reason behind her reluctance.

'Yea sure just laugh it up, you. Once you have gone a day with people nonstop gushing over you, you'll talk differently.' Helena retorted.

Having said it, though, she wasn't so sure; Godric absolutely loved attention.

The ruby dragon walked over to her and looked straight into her eyes. If she wasn't completely sure that he would never dream of harming her the sight would probably be terrifying.

'I know why you don't like it. Once this is over I will happily follow you wherever you wish to go. If you want to live as a hermit and live in the mountains I would be fine with that,' Godric promised.

'Maybe not that far,' Helena smiled, 'perhaps…' she mused, staring into the distant nothing. _'_ We could just travel for a while? there is an entirely new world to explore; I would like to see some of it.'

'I'd like that,' Godric agreed softly.

The pair fell into a comfortable silence for a while.

'I also want to visit the elves, once this is over,' Helena eventually said.

'You're hoping they can help you find a way back home,' Godric stated more than asked.

 _'_ Yea, it's not as if I NEED to go back, but it's just…. If only to let my friend know that I am alive, ye know?' She tried to convey her desire; that they were talking mentally made such things easier.

'There is chance you will never find a way back,' Godric pointed out carefully, as if afraid of how she would react. 'I don't want you to spend your live obsessing over an impossible goal.'

'I know that's a very real possibility, but I also know you'll stop me if I take this too far,' Helena said.

'And I promise not to step in until I notice you going too far,' Godric assured.

There was that wave of tenderness again.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Helena was currently walking along the streets of Teirm.

She was walking along one of the less traveled streets, when suddenly she felt an unfamiliar magic trying to affect her mind!

she tried to form a shield, but the magic didn't seem to be coming from any particular direction. The magic felt different from anything she had ever felt before. It was more… absolute… more ridged.

She tried to contact Godric, she had to… she had to….

She blacked out.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"vakna."

Helena woke up with a jolt.

She sat on a wooden chair, with her hand tied painfully tight behind her back and a gag in her mouth. She recognized the room she was in as belonging to Joed's estate.

 _Did Joed betray me?_

Nial – Evan's uncle – stood before her. Gone was the kindly somewhat silly old man that she knew him as. Now he stood with the ridged posture of a warrior.

 _Was Evan in on this too?_ that thought hurt. _To have so completely misjudged him, Moody would be disappointed_.

 _'Helena! Helena!'_ She heard Godric cry frantically in her mind.

 _'I am here,'_ she reassured.

 _'Hang on, I am coming to get you,'_ Godric said intently.

 _'Wait! You can't be discovered, and I can get out of these bindings easily,'_ she said.

Since she had only been gagged, she assumed that they didn't think her capable of none verbal magic. Godric, while clearly unhappy, agreed not to storm Teirm on his own… for now.

Helena began to try and cast the weakest severing charm she could at the ropes binding her hands. She had practiced this charm extensively and was confident she wouldn't accidentally cut her own wrist doing this, hopefully.

Her assailant began to talk at this point.

 _'Very clever of you, Eragon is still a naïve fifteen-year-old boy, probably has never had a woman show hem any kind attention before in his life. Had him wrapped around your little finger in no time didn't you,'_ He accused.

Helena figured that this _Eragon_ was probably Evan's real name.

 _Just what is going on here?_ She couldn't spare much thought to think on it, she had to focus on her magic. She had managed to cut her bindings enough to move her wrists apart. She could, if she wanted to, sever them completely now without worrying about cutting herself.

'What are you waiting for!' demanded Godric.

'I want to know what this is about first,' said Helena.

'Just get out of there!' Godric mental shout was so insistent that she had trouble keeping her expression neutral; she didn't want to give anything away to her captor.

'We may learn something,' she argued.

'Like what?' he snapped.

Helena didn't reply and Godric didn't press further though he was clearly angry.

Nial – though that probably wasn't his real name – continued speaking.

"I don't know how you managed to fake having the Gedwëy Ignasia. Did Galbatorix figure out a way to mimic the mark?" Helena had no idea what a 'Gedwëy ignasia' was, and since she was still gagged, figured he wasn't asking, but simply talking to himself.

Helena resisted the urge to smirk. _Awesome, it's always nice when the bad guys start monologuing._

"You can't be a dragon Rider," 'Nial' said with a certainty that she found mildly insulting because she was definitely a Dragon Rider.

 _Barmy old codger is what he is,_ Helena though to herself.

"If one of the other two dragon eggs had hatched than Galbatorix would have announced it already. There is no reason for him to keep it a secret at this point; it would be a devastating blow to the moral of the Varden," he continued.

'There are still other dragon eggs out there,' she told Godric excitedly and not a little smugly. _'_ I told you we might learn something important.'

Godric – while clearly as excited about the news – wasn't going to be contend until she was in a less sticky situation.

"Who are you?" 'Nial' demanded "A member of Galbatorix's Black Hand I recon," Helena found that more than a little insulting, and it finally earned a true glare from her.

 _As if I would ever work for the likes of him,_ she grumbled internally

"Still, for him to have found us so quickly. . ." 'Nial' trailed of looking worried, but then his features hardened again.

"I am going to look into your mind. I am not gonne lie, it's going to hurt, but I must know what Galbatorix knows of us."

'Helena get out of there now!' Godric insisted again, and Helena felt herself inclined to agree with him.

It was at that moment that Evan – Eragon she corrected herself – burst into the room. As soon as his eyes fell on her they widened in horror.

Several things happened at once.

Godric once again screamed a _'now!'_ in her mind.

Eragon began to say "Brom what are you–––"

The person now named Brom turned to look at Eragon and – more importantly – took his eyes off of Helena for a moment.

Helena – deciding that she wasn't going to get a better chance – was already moving by the time Godric issued his latest insistence that she escape.

She cast a silent a severing charm at her bindings – not bothering to hold back. They left a small insertion in the wooden floor. She used her left hand to remove the gag from her mouth while raising the right in preparation for spellcasting.

 _"Flipendo. Silencio."_ She cast in rapid succession.

Brom turned back to look at her in alarm, but it was too late.

First Flipendo, the Knockback Jinx. She wasn't much of a physical fighter, small as she was, so creating distance took president. It was also hard to do magic while you are still reeling from a direct hit. Ordinarily, it would just knock someone back, but her spell sent him flying into the wall.

Then the silencing charm. Since he assumed she couldn't use magic without speaking it was possible that he may not be capable of it either.

She would have added a body bind to it, but after being blasted like that he clearly wasn't going anywhere for a while, and there was one more threat in the room. Normally she would have just used a stunner, but an overpowered stunner had the potential to kill someone and she didn't want to risk that.

She turned towards Eragon, who stood frozen in the doorway.

Helena was surprised that he would be a part of this; she _really_ didn't think he was faking that look of wide-eyed wonder that she had seen him wear during their date, nor his liking of her.

 _Maybe he was tricked as well?_

 _Locking his legs together will do I suppose._ She would try not to hurt him over what she suspected wasn't his idea.

When she raised her hands to him he seemed to snap out of his stupor, shouting, "Wait! Wait!" Helena did actually hesitate for a moment, but then continued on. _It isn't like this will actually hurt him beyond landing him on his arse._

She suspected that Eragon didn't know her spell was _almost_ harmless considering how his eyes widened in fright at the red glow on her hand. He continued to yell, "Wait! I am Dragon Rider! Like you!" With one deft movement he ungloved his hand and showed her his marked hand.

This did cause Helena to stop and look at him in shock. With two large steps she was in front of him, grabbing his hand to take a close look the mark. _'_ Godric, is this what it appears. . . I don't trust myself right now,' she asked uncertainly, voice heavy with emotion.

'It is,' he confirmed, also stunned at the implications of this; He wasn't the only free dragon.

"You, you are. . ." she began, unsure of what to say.

"Yes. And you are as well," Eragon began to smile, one she hesitantly returned.

That seemed to be all the encouragement he needed, and he embraced her in a hug. After a few moments she also, though less enthusiastically, returned the gesture.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"talk."

Once Brom had recover enough to walk – thankfully he hadn't broken anything – they moved over to Joed's assigned room in the citadel were they couldn't be overheard. Things were tense between them as they traveled, still wary of each other. Once they had sat down Brom immediately began to interrogate her.

"You first," she demanded.

"Me first?!"

"Yes you first!," she put both her hands on the table and leaned forward. "You attacked me, kidnapped me, you were about to invade my mind. I believe the first question is rightfully mine."

"That may be so young lady, but considering the circumstances I had to be sure that––"

"I don't care one bit for you reason! Do you have any idea how close Godric came to attacking Teirm?!" She suspected that if Brom had woken her just a few minutes later that is exactly what would have happened.

'You're right, I would have,' Godric commented to her.

"Brom, she is right," Eragon said, Brom turned to glare at him, but he didn't back down, "You said you would investigate, you didn't say anything about kidnapping her." Eragon blinked and turned to her, "Who is Godric?"

"My dragon," she said simply. Godric wasn't strictly speaking hers, he was his own person, but it still felt right to call him her dragon. He was her dragon and she was his human.

For the first time Brom cracked a smile, though it was gone almost as soon as she noticed it, and Eragon's face sported a silly grin.

"Fine," Brom grumbled, "but you will tell me about yourself and this Godric, afterwards."

"I suppose that's fair" she conceded, though she wondered if they would believe her. She let herself fall backwards into her chair, trying to make herself comfortable.

He then began to recount a horrid tale of wonder, murder, monsters, ambushes, and a quest for revenge.

"So then we came to Teirm to find aid in the form of Joed to find the records of the Seither oil shipments, and that's when we ran into you," he ended.

 _All things considered they did have reason to be suspicious,'_ Helena thought to herself, s _till doesn't make it okay, though._

"So now it's your turn," Brom said.

"Very well," she sighed, this could end very badly, her tale was so outlandish, literally, that thinking her a liar would probably seem more plausible. "Ask your questions."

To her mild surprise, he didn't start with 'Who are you?' "What were those words you spoke when you were using magic; I don't think that was the Ancient Language."

"No, most spells I use are derived from Latin. hat is the Ancient Language?"

"It's the language of magic and elves, as far as I know all magic should be bound to it." There was an implied question in there.

 _Huh, that's odd._ "Well… clearly it isn't," she said, spreading her hands in a helpless gesture.

Brom just narrowed his eyes at that unhelpful answer. "Very well, who are you?"

 _All I can do is tell the truth. If they don't believe me, then that is their fault not mine._

"My name is Helena Potter. Back home I am famously known as 'The Girl Who Lived' for surviving a curse thought to be unsurvivable, and 'the chosen one' because of a prophecy. I am from a country called Britain, and I have no idea where that is in relation to Alagaësia, or even this world. I woke up a little over a month ago in The Spine in nothing but my birthday suit, with all my belongings scattered around me, I found Godric's egg among them, and he hatched three days later when I arrived in Teirm."

There was a long pregnant pause during which Brom stared hard at her.

Eventually he said, "I believe you." He leaned back in his chair, completely gobsmacked.

Her mouth fell open. She felt just as astonished at his acceptance of her story as his shock at the story itself.

"Wait," Eragon said, "If you only recently became a Rider, then how are you able to use magic?"

"Oh that's easy," she smirked, "I was a witch long before I became a rider."

"A witch," Eragon said. He turned to Brom, "Didn't you say that witches and wizards got their powers trough potions."

Helena perked up in interest.

"I did. Of the three different kind magic users they are both the rarest and usually–," Brom looked at her, and the way he said 'usually' made it clear that he considered her an exception, "–the weakest."

Despite being annoyed at her kind being called weak, she tried to focus on what was more important.

"Three different kind of magic users?" she asked.

It was Eragon who answered. "Magicians, sorcerers and wizards."

 _They are not the same here?_ Helena wondered. Where she came from, a sorcerer was simply a name for a powerful wizard. The term magician wasn't something often used by her kind back home, but rather how one refers to a muggle pretending to be a wizard.

Brom turned to glare at Eragon, "This is not the time," he turned his attention back to her, "If you really are a Rider, then I offer you to accompany us and to learn alongside Eragon. I know some things that you need to learn."

Eragon looked hopeful, but Helena was a bit skeptical.

"I haven't forgotten that you kidnapped me you know? You expect me to trust you?"

Brom held her gaze, "I won't apologies, I did what I had to, and would again if put in that same situation"

Helena wasn't sure if that made it better or worse.

Brom continued, "Eragon and I are leaving Teirm in three days, take that time to decide. Keep in mind that you are unlikely to find a magician that is willing to teach you anywhere within the empire, and even outside of it, most magic users of any kind guard their secrets zealously."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Helena stood on a balcony at Joed's estate looking out over the city of Teirm.

The way the city was built in a sort of ring pattern, with every ring towards the center being a little higher than the one before meant she could look quite far.

At the moment she was contemplating on whether they should join up with Eragon and Brom as they traveled. Understandably, Godric wanted to, at the very least, meet Saphira.  
The problem was that Eragon just wanted justice for his uncle, he hasn't decided yet if he wants to fight Galbatorix.

'If he is acts like coward and flees then he doesn't deserve you,' Godric said.

She and Godric had very different opinions about those that wouldn't fight.

Helena knew that it was wrong to blame those that didn't fight Voldemort, and just focused on keeping their heads down, keeping their family's safe, while Godric held nothing but contempt for them. Sure, Helena also wished more people had stood up to Voldemort, but she could, if not agree, at least understand.

'This has nothing to do with _deserving_ me or not, he is the only other free rider that can help me – us – against Galbatorix,' she gave the word 'deserving' a mocking tone, 'And it isn't just Eragon either. We don't know what Saphira is going to make of all this.'

'If she can stand by and do nothing then she isn't a dragon that I would want to know.'

'Even if she is the only chance of reviving your race?' Helena returned.

'Perhaps then,' he admitted after some thought, 'but I wouldn't want anything to do with her afterwards.'

Helena heard footsteps behind her and looked to see Eragon approaching her.

"What are you doing out here?" he asked.

"This seemed like a good place think," she said, turning her gaze back towards Teirm and the lands beyond its walls. The sun would set soon, and she had always thought the light off dawn or dusk to be beautiful.

"About what?" Eragon came to stand next to her, one hand on the railing and face turned to her.

Helena made an all-encompassing gesture. "Me, Godric, you, Saphira, this whole situation really."

He nodded his head. "Heavy thoughts."

She snorted. "You can say that again."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why would I say that again?"

"Oh no, it's just an expression, it means I completely agree with what you just said."

He was silent for a moment, wearing a contemplative expression.

"You really are from an entirely different world aren't you? It's difficult to believe."

"Yet, you actually do believe me. I am surprised you accepted it so easily." Though she was more surprised that Brom believed her. He must really be confident in his ability to detect lies.

Eragon shrugged. "It's just one more thing that I used think to think was impossible; it has become a common enough."

"Yea good point, after I got introduced to the wizarding world every time something weird happened I just shrugged my shoulders and said, 'I suppose that's a thing now'."

"The idea of a wizarding world is still seems strange to me, why would they all just hide themselves away?"

After her introduction she had given them a brief explanation of the wizarding world.

"It wasn't always like that, it's actually kind of recent, it only happened about four hundred years ago," she said.

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Four hundred years is recent?"

"In the grand scheme of things, yes." Considering how long humans had been around in her world, four hundred years was nothing.

"Why did they decide to leave?"

"During that time period there was a movement in the church – the major religion back home – that declared all magic evil. They declared a witch hunt and any magic user they found was killed. They weren't particularly successful; most of the people they killed were muggles in fact."

"What are muggles?"

"It's our word for people who don't have magic,"

Eragon had a weird look on his face, and slightly pursed lips.

"Is something wrong?" she asked.

"I am trying to decide if muggle sound insulting or not," he said, looking contemplative.

She shrugged, "I don't think it's meant to be."

He apparently decided it wasn't worth making a fuss over and ask something else. "If they weren't successful, then why did you leave?"

She raised a eyebrow. "Would you want to live alongside people that want you dead?"

"I guess you have a point," he conceded. "Why did these witch hunts get started though? why declare all magic evil?"

"You ask a lot of questions," she commented wryly.

"You are not the first to say so," he said sheepishly.

"I don't think it's a bad thing. Anyway I don't remember; my history teacher had a droning monotone voice that could make anything sound boring."

"That reminds me. Are you a noble?"

 _I guess normal ordinary people don't have teachers around here._

A grimace appeared on her face. "By some definitions yes," she said, looking as had just tasted a particularly unlucky Every Flavoured Bean "My godfather, Sirius Black, came from a very old and wealthy 'noble' family." The way she uttered the word _noble_ almost made it an insult. "When he died he left everything to me. I suppose some might consider me a noble for that, and even my birth family was wealthy by most standards."

"You don't like it?" he sounded puzzled.

"There was a war. Many of the so called noble class chose the wrong side. I would prefer not to be associated with them. Besides, most of my friends wouldn't be considered welcome among them, and they are much more important."

"You miss them." It was a statement not a question.

"Yea," she said wistfully, "because of Godric it hasn't been as bad as it could have been, but yes, I miss them."

"I understand," he said softly, "I would never have left Carvahall if I had a choice; I hope to return there someday."

"What of Saphira though?" she questioned, "If she is anything like Godric she won't be satisfied with such a life."

Her words seemed to trouble him. She didn't talk to him further and allowed him to think on it in silence.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The sun was starting to set and Eragon, Brom and Joed were preparing for their heist of the Citadel.

"I wish you would come with us, your magic could prove useful," it was Eragon that had approached her.

"Stealth is what will be most important for you. Bringing to many people will make things harder. There are also likely to be wards over the building if it is really important. I don't want to risk it until I know more about how the magic here works."

"What are wards," Eragon asked.

"Defensive magic placed over places or items that serve as protection. Usually against hostile magic," she explained.

"You are so used to this," he grimaced, "All of this magic stuff. . . I can barely keep up with all the new things I have to learn."

"I wouldn't worry about it. I wasn't any better when I first started," she tried to reassure him. She wasn't sure she succeeded, that feeling of inadequacy only really went away when you prove yourself wrong.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

She and Godric had decided that they would accompany Eragon and Brom for the time being, to take Brom up on his offer of magical lessons if nothing else. They would leave the next morning.

Brom had advised her that – despite having the best mount imaginable – that she would need a horse. Helena had reluctantly (Godric even more so) agreed that she couldn't stay on dragon back all the time, and so she set out to one of the merchants that Joed had recommended to her.

She found herself at a small barn right at the edge of the city. Helena was a little surprised to find something so. . . rural located within the city walls.

When she entered she found a young blond haired man sweeping the floors. When he noticed her he quickly put away his broom and gave her what she was sure he thought was a charming smile.

"Yes can I help you, lady?" he asked grinning.

"Yes, I was told I could buy a horse here," she tried to keep her face as neutral as possible. It wasn't that she found such attention unflattering, but she would rather not deal with it right now. Honesty she didn't think she was _that_ pretty. She simply took better care of herself than the average medieval peasant.

"Of course, I could show you––"

"Do we have customer boy?" interrupted a voice from the back.

A man – who by his looks Helena guessed was the boy's father – appeared from a doorway behind the counter. When his eyes fell on her he turned back to the boy and barked, "Peter! Go fetch some water while I attend to our customer."

The boy, peter, grumpily moved into the back of the barn.

Once the boy was out of sight he turned back to her, "My apologies miss, my boy doesn't really know how to act around a woman of your station."

Helena grimaced internally. This wasn't the first time somebody had made that mistake, likely due to her fine clothing. She had decided it would be too much trouble correcting them, especially when it made people more agreeable to help her.

"He really wasn't that bad," she said.

"I am glad of it. That means I send him away before he got _that bad_ ," the man said with good humor.

That earned a small smile from her. "I will be leaving Teirm shortly, along with a small entourage. I came to purchase a horse for myself, for travel."

The man's bearing became a picture of professionalism.

"Right, you came to the right place miss…?" he trailed off.

"I am Helena potter. Just call me Helena."

The man raised an eyebrow, but continued amiably. "Right… Helena. My name is Bryce Walterson."

That was something else Helena had noticed. Most people's last names were a reference to their father's for boys or their mother's for girls. The only exception to this seemed to be nobility and those that had accomplished great deeds. She hadn't bothered to correct the few people who thought her parents were potters by trade.

"Have you ever ridden a horse before," Bryce continued.

Helena hesitantly replied, "I have ridden something… similar to a horse before."

Apparently Bryce considered that a 'no' "Best have an easy to managed breed with an even temperament. Do you prefer a younger specimen or older? A younger horse would require a bit more work on your part, but would of course last you longer and have a bit more energy to them. An older specimen wouldn't have as much stamina, but they are easier to handle."

She should probably pick the 'easy' choice, but she always liked a challenge and there _was_ a very real possibility of danger in her future, so she went for the more energetic choice.

"Preferably a younger version," she gave the man a challenging smirk, "and you don't need to coddle me. It must be capable of traveling some long distances; some speed and vigor wouldn't go amiss."

The man's face brightened, "Ho ho, a spirited lass aren't ye. Well I got a few choices for ye."

He led her to the stalls were he pointed out four different horses, going in great detail about the qualities of their sires and dames. Helena eventually decided upon a reddish brown mare with a white stripe on its nose and pretty white manes.

"An excellent choice Helena. It would cost you about one hundred and ten crows. You will probably be able to find cheaper elsewhere, but not better. I'll even throw in all the riding equipment you will need and a full set of tack that will last you about a week."

Helena had no idea what a horse should cost and wasn't bargain hunting in any event. They were leaving soon and she didn't have the time to look for another salesman.

She quickly agreed. The man gave her a weird look after she presented him with her unfamiliar coins, but since they were pure gold he didn't make an issue of it.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

At sunrise the next morning she met up with Brom and Eragon right outside the south gate at sunrise.

Joed had also come to say goodbye.

She had already made her farewells to Seben the innkeeper, Helen, and some other acquaintances she had made during the last month.

"So how did it go?" she asked.

"It went fine," Eragon said. From the slight delay before he said it she could tell that they did have some close shaves, but they were obviously okay.

"We were successful. We now believe the Ra'zak have a base at, or somewhere near, Dras-Leona," Brom added.

He looked at her and her horse and said, "Is that all you will be bringing?"

Helena looked from the heavy bags and equipment that were bound to their respective horses to her own much less weighted down mount.

"Oh don't you worry. I got most of what I need right here," she patted the Mokeskin pouch hanging from her waist.

"That small thing can't possibly contain all you will need?" Eragon asked skeptically.

"Magic," with a smirks she gave the most universally unhelpful yet most common answer to any 'how' question a witch or wizard could give.

Brom was shaking his head. "You and I are going to have a long talk lass, because from what I have seen thus far, you can do things that nobody else can."

"Maybe. I am quite curious about your own magic as well," she said, remembering how she got captured and the odd feel of the magic he used.

They all got on their horses with varying degrees of skill.

When Eragon saw her struggle he decided to give her some advice.

"See if you can reach out to his mind as you do with Godric."

Helena did so and found that she could indeed connect with animal's mind with relative ease. She was surprised at this since – unless you shared a special bond with someone – this form of mental communication required eye contact as far as she knew, which she wasn't doing right now. She also had never actually learned legilimency so she shouldn't be capable of this.

 _Must be Rider thing,_ she reasoned. The connection wasn't anywhere near as clear as it was with Godric, but she felt that she could communicate with it. She tried to make it understand that she was a friend and that she would do her best to take good care of her.

The horse was a lot more cooperative after that.

"What are you going to call her?" Eragon asked.

"I think I will call her Elladora," she decided, looking at the horse with a fond smile.

"What kind of name is that for a horse," Brom griped.

"There is nothing wrong with it," Helena said defensively "It was the name of a famous witch that lived in the 17th century… that's about three hundred years ago," she clarified when she realized they didn't use the same calendar. In the empire the date was currently 100 AA (After Ascension, referring to Galbatorix's coronation). "It will be Allie for short."

"Well that's at least a proper name for a horse" Brom grumbled.

After glaring at Brom for a second she turned to Joed and offered him a smile, "Goodbye Joed, I hope you manage to save your business."

Brom had told her that he simply told Joed he found a possible spy and needed a place for interrogation; he never mentioned he was going after her so she couldn't hold it against Joed.

Joed gave her a respectful nod that was just short of a full bow, "It was an honor to meet you Helena. I hope we meet again someday. I would like to see your… partner," he turned to Eragon, "and your partner as well, when next we meet."

Jeod turned to Brom, "Take care of yourself old man and, while I know it to be futile, try and be careful."

"I am not that bad," Brom said affronted.

Joed simply gave him a _look_. _These two must have been through a lot,_ Helena thought to herself.

Brom's lips twitched, "Alright fine. I will be careful, and I will miss you too."

With the final goodbyes said, the party of three road out under the giant walls, through the iron portcullises, and into the vast grass fields of the empire.


	6. Neccesairy exposition

Once they were what Brom considered a safe distance away from Teirm, Eragon and Helena informed their respective partners that it was safe to approach.  
They came from two different directions. Godric from the forests in the northern Spine and Saphira from the mossy cliffs near the Toark river. Had they not made their hideouts on opposite sides of Teirm, they likely would have noticed each other long before now.

Godric came in flying low over the plains to avoid being seen. Saphira chose the opposite solution by flying so high that she was hard to see with the naked eye.  
Godric would probably have done the same if his ruby red scales didn't stand out as much as Saphira's sapphire blue ones against the blue sky. It was still important for them not to be seen and Saphira's coloring gave her an advantage there.  
To a certain extent anyway, the blue of Saphira's scales was far more vibrant than the sky.

Once they caught sight of each other Helena could feel Godric's strong emotions flowing through their bond. The dragons eagerly dived or rose to meet the other in the air. Once they were at the same height they began to circle each other.  
Helena felt Godric close the connection between them so that he could talk to Saphira in private.

"He is magnificent," Eragon said, grinning from ear to ear. Brom face on the other hand was surprisingly blank as he stared unblinkingly at the red dragon.

"And Saphira is quite beautiful," Helena said. Her face was also beaming, sharing in Godric's happiness that he was no longer the only free dragon in the world.  
It was true, she thought; Saphira _is_ beautiful. The sun's light reflecting of her scales was dazzling, and Helena had to squint her eyes so as to not be blinded by them. Though in her own personal opinion, Godric's ruby colored scales made him look more noble and grand.

'Thank you, dear one,' Godric preened at her. Apparently he and Saphira were done talking for the moment.

Helena smiled fondly. Dragons were such prideful creatures. Not unjustifiably so, she thought.

The dragons started to descend to the ground to meet the rest of the party. Helena had to work hard to convince Elladora to remain calm and to reassure her that: _'No, you not about to be eaten.'_  
Cadoc and Snowfire – Eragon's and Brom's horses respectively – seemed be used to Saphira and didn't make as much of a fuss.  
When they landed, their wide spreading wings casted the humans and horses of the group in shadow. Around them they could see beams of reflected light coloring the grass blue, red, and in few places where they met, purple.

Brom – who was now smiling softly as opposed to that blank look from earlier – turned to her. 'May we speak to him?" he asked.

"Why are you asking me?" Helena asked in turn, giving him a puzzled look. "He can decide for himself."

Brom shrugged, "It is considered polite to ask."

Brom and Eragon moved over to Godric to introduce themselves, and Saphira lowered her head so she stood at eye height with Helena. Her eyes were blue, the exact same shade of blue as her scales. Helena also discovered just how intimidating a dragon was when you didn't share a telepathic bond that assured that he or she was on your side.  
The young women wanted to make a good impression however, so she mustered up her Gryffindor courage and met the dragon's stare impassively, doing her best to show neither aggression nor submission.

After a few tense moments Helena felt a foreign presence brunch against her mind. Helena had to stop herself from instinctively trying to empty her mind as she had trained herself to do. Saphira seemed to sense her discomfort and waited a few moments for Helena to relax.

'Greetings Helena, It's good to finally meet you. Eragon seems to have a very high opinion of you,' there was a definite tone of amusement in her voice. It was higher than Godric's but still lower than that of most females she knew, but it was just as strong as Godric's and had that same booming quality to it. Saphira, of course, also didn't have Godric's British accent.

Helena gave a short bow. 'I am honored to meet you Saphira, and I am overjoyed to discover another of Godric's kin has managed to stay out of the black king's clutches.' She hoped she wasn't laying it on too thick. She only had Godric to go on, on how one should act around a dragon.

Saphira blinked a few times. She didn't bow back, but Helena didn't expect her to. If she was as prideful as Godric, Saphira would consider it a given that somebody would be honored to meet her _._

'I see that Godric taught you well,' Saphira commented a definite note of approval in her voice.

'I like to think Godric learned some things from me as well,' Helena responded with a wry smile.

Brom spoke up, "We should move on. We may be avoiding the main road, but two dragons are hard to miss and it would be disastrous if we were seen."  
 _  
_Helena managed to refrain from scowling, but Saphira seemed to have sensed her feeling of dislike all the same.

'I hope you won't hold what he did to you to much against him. He is a good man. He will not apologies, but I know he wishes it had gone differently,' she said.

'I will try to give him a chance,' Helena agreed. She knew it was all a big misunderstanding, but still. . .

Saphira seemed to be content with that and retreated from her mind.

Eragon moved over to her, still sporting that silly grin of his. "Godric is amazing," he said.

Helena nodded, "As is Saphira." As with Godric, she felt that there was something ancient about Saphira's mind, despite her youth. Amazing was definitely the right word for it.  
 _  
_"And he talks funny like you do," Eragon continued.

"I beg your pardon?" she said, pursing her lips and slightly narrowing her eyes. _I know I talk differently, but did he have to say it like that._

Eragon grew flustered and started to stammer out an apology.

There was a deep rumbling noise coming from the dragons and Helena realized that they were laughing.  
 _  
_"Alright enough," Brom barked, "We are leaving now,".

Eragon moved over to Saphira, who Helena noticed had a saddle, apparently deciding he would rather fly than ride on horseback for now.  
Godric and Helena both looked wistfully at them.

Brom, noticed the look. "We will make you a saddle soon enough, don't worry," he said, giver her a knowing grin. With magic she could _probably_ find a way to fly without a saddle and not have her thighs torn apart by sharp scales, but she didn't correct him. A saddle did sound cool.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"So… let's talk magic," she said once they were alone. They were both traveling on horseback. Helena, despite never having ridden a horse before, no longer needed to give Alladora her full attention. It was amazing how easy this was when you could communicate telepathically with the animal.

"I suppose we must. Since you have magic of your own, there is no reason to delay your instructions. Normally young Riders train both their bodies and minds for many years before there instructors deem them responsible enough to handle magic."  
 _  
_Again, as previously mentioned, suspiciously knowledgeable. _  
_  
"Alright," Helena said, grateful to finally get some answers, "First, what is the difference between witches, magicians and––"

"Not so fast," Brom interrupted, "first we must find out if what you do is even remotely similar to the magic of Alagaësia. You are somehow able to use magic without using the ancient language. While technically possible, the sheer ease with which you do it implies something more."

"Fine," Helena conceded. That did sound important to know.

"Describe what using magic feels like to you," Brom said.

That was an old question that muggles often liked to ask to their magical counterparts. She knew Hermione's parents had tried to have their daughter describe it to them without much success. How does one explain color to the blind or sound to the deaf?

"It is difficult to describe," She said, adopting a pensive expression,"I suppose it is like a sixth sense or an extra invisible limb that is only there when you want it to be. Magic is as much an integral part of me as my heart or brain is. When I was told what I was I didn't question it. It was like I had always known."  
 _  
_She could never forget that moment.  
 _You're a witch Helena._  
So many things suddenly became clear to her at that moment. Like a vital piece of the puzzle that represented her life had just fallen into place.

"Does using magic tire you?" Brom asked. From his serious expression Helena could tell this question was important somehow.

"Tire me?" she thought about it for a moment, "Using magic requires some mental concentration and doing that for long periods of time can be tiring."  
 _  
_"Does it tire you physically?" he pressed.

"No." If you were really physically frail, than making wand motions all day could tire you, but she got the feeling that wasn't what he meant.

"Then what we do and what you do is fundamentally different. For all magic users here, using magic to accomplish something requires the same amount of energy as if you had done it by hand," he explained.

She scowled. "Then what is the point of it?" It didn't sound very useful.  
 _  
_"Think before you ask," he admonished, "Try to answer your own question."

She thought it over. It didn't take long to come with a reason. "Speed?" she said raising her shoulders in a way that indicated she wasn't sure of her answer. _There has to be more to it than that._

"That's a part of it, yes. what else?"

She thought a bit longer this time, but again, another obvious answer came to her. _"_ Some things can't be done by hand."

He had used magic to get her into a magical sleep, you can't do that with your hand… well you could knock somebody out with a hit on the head, but you get the idea.

"Precisely," he nodded.

"So the more difficult a task, the more energy it takes _?"_ he nodded,"I still think my own version is better."

"We shall see," he said cautiously, "If what I have guessed about your powers thus far is correct, there are still some areas were the powers of the magicians of Alagaësia would surpass yours. After all, you were beaten easily when I used magic on you back in Teirm."

She had been wondering about that.

"From where did you cast the spell? I couldn't sense its direction,"she asked.

"There was no 'direction'," he said.

 _"But–"_

"I think It's time I explained to you how magic is supposed to work around here," he interrupted again, he then started to speak in a dramatic voice that was often used by teachers to explain stuff they deemed especially important, "To understand our magic you must understand the Ancient Language. First of all, it is not just a language to describe things, it is **THE** language to describe things. 'Stenr' is not just a word for stone, it is what stone _is_. If you control the word you control it."

That sounded a bit… weird.

"Second, it is impossible to lie while using it,"  
 _  
"Okay,"_ she nodded slowly. That one was easier to understand.

"Though, keep in mind that while the Ancient Language doesn't allow you to say something that you yourself don't _believe_ to be true, but that isn't the same as saying something that isn't true. It is also still possible to be deceived using half-truths."

 _Okay, makes sense._

"Whenever a magician wants to use magic, he ideally describes what he wants to happen in the Ancient Language, and if he has enough energy – that is life energy - to make that happen, it does. Now, you don't have to describe exactly what you want to happen, mental flexibility and ingenuity can make up for a lack of words, but that is the general rule."  
 _  
_Helena tried to wrap her mind around the implications of this.

"And this 'Ancient Language' really is a complete language?"she asked slowly.  
 _  
_"It is."

"And as long as you can describe what you want to happen it does exactly that?" If that was true then it would allow for an insane amount of control, precision and flexibility. Helena knew a limited amount of spells and each did a specific thing, if she didn't know a spell that had the desired effect then she was out of luck. Unless she used her recently acquired gift of using what she was going to call 'raw magic', but that had its own share of risks.  
A lot of her own spells required aiming, and this Ancient Language magic didn't seem to need that. You simply described that the world should change a certain way and you used energy until it did so, no aiming involved or required. Granted, this carried its own kind of risks of attempting to do something that was beyond you and killing yourself accidentally. There was no way for Helena to kill herself with her own magic unless she hit herself with it by accident.

"Yes, back in Teirm I used the word 'slytha' meaning 'sleep' to capture you."

"And that was enough?" He said you could make up for a lack of words with mental flexibility and ingenuity, but she wanted to know for sure.

"It is safer the more words you use, but as long as you know very clearly what you want, and you have some talent for it, you can accomplish much with very little. As long as what you said made sense in your mind, you can use a world like 'deloi' meaning 'earth' to for example make a plant grow faster. Though, again, it's easier and safer the more words you use."  
 _  
I take it back, this does sound more powerful or at least more dangerous._

Helena looked at Brom incredulously. "So you can just say 'die' and a person will drop dead?" if it could do that. . .

Brom frowned, "Using 'deyja' meaning 'die' would do that, yes, but it is a very costly thing to do. Your own life energy would need to outmatch that of your target's by a very large margin. It is easier, or more accurately cheaper, to describe an injury or malady that causes death as a result. Launching a small rock at great speed at the enemy's face would also be cheaper."

"Life energy?" she asked.

"Yes," Brom said, "The energy that we use to move our bodies and the energy we use to do magic is the same. We expend energy until the effect of the spell is fulfilled or until we die.  
 _  
Dangerous,_ she thought. _And it still sounds insane._ "How fast does this magic work? How do you defend yourself against such a thing?" she asked.

This wasn't the kind of thing you could dodge, and a shield meant to block an incoming spell wouldn't work since it didn't manifest as a beam of light or some such.

Brom sighed,"What you are proposing – a 'magicians duel' if you will – is extremely dangerous. The only way for you to defend against your opponent's magic is to know in advance what they are going to do, and use a spell to counteract it. To that end, nearly all such duels take the form of a mental struggle for control of your opponent's mind. If one side uses magic on the other before gaining access to the opponent's mind, then in the brief time before one is destroyed – death is rarely that instantaneous – there would be time for a counter attack, and so both are killed. This is why Galbatorix is so powerful, he is a master of breaking into an opponent's mind."

 _Something is missing here…_

She looked at Brom skeptically. "There has to be more to it," Helena stated with certainty.

Brom gave her a curious look, "What do you mean?"

"If that is all there is to it, then Galbatorix would have died a long time ago. Are you honestly going to tell me that not a single rider or magician was willing to take the deal of sacrificing his life in return for that of Galbatorix's? Merlin's beard, if it was that easy I would fly over to Galbatorix' palace right now and kill him myself, consequences be dammed." _Godric would probably not agree with that plan though._

Brom's eyes widened, "You would be willing to do that?"

Helena nodded, "How many have already died in this conflict? One life… it seems such a small price to pay when you really think about it."

 _It wouldn't even be the first time I made that choice. . ._

Brom scrutinized her for a long moment, "You were a soldier once weren't you? Or at least involved in a war before."

She didn't want to go into details yet, but there was no harm in confirming what he had already guessed. "Yes."

Brom nodded to himself, "I thought as much. Only those are ever so quick to lay down their life's for something," he looked at her ,she could see the concern in his blue eyes, and he sighed. He suddenly looked very old, "Don't be so quick to give up on your life child. You are young yet and have a lot of potential in you, and remember, you are not alone anymore, you are not just sacrificing yourself, but likely Godric as well."  
 _  
_Helena absorbed those words, but didn't know what to say to them, so she kept silent. The thought of Godric dying did frighten her more than her own potential demise.

Brom continued in his lecturing tone. "To get back to the lesson, yes there is another part to this. It is possible to place wards on yourself to block incoming spells, but there are a lot of ways to kill a person and each requires a different kind of ward. It is always possible that your enemy will think of a way to kill you that you haven't thought of yet. Also, it is possible for your enemy to directly challenge your ward, in which case it becomes a contest of who has the most energy. With the defender having an advantage since distance makes magic more costly, thus the defender needs to spend less energy to defend his own person. Keep in mind that Galbatorix has been doing this for a long time and is the most powerful magician currently alive. Possibly the most powerful magician that has ever lived."  
 _  
Wards placed on a person… an interesting concept._ Back on earth such things were attempted, but always without success. The best they had was enchanted clothing.

Helena was quiet for a couple of minutes.  
She had definitely been wrong in her initial impression; this local magic was a lot more dangerous than her own version, both for the practitioner and the target. She thought back to her first encounter with this magic back in Teirm. She guessed she _**might**_ , be able to use her own 'raw magic' to fight it off if she was fast enough, but again, it was dangerous. She would have to be very precise – something 'raw magic' was very bad at doing – and have her magic do the complete opposite of what her potential enemy was trying to do. That could end badly though. Let's say her opponent tried to kill her by overheating her body, if she tried to counter with 'raw magic' she would run the risk of turning herself into an ice statue if she wasn't careful.

"I _need_ to learn how to use the magic of the Ancient Language," she declared.

Brom nodded, seeming pleased, "I am glad you realize that."

"I also need to practice how to fight a person mentally for control of the mind," she added.

"Do you have any prior experience?" Brom asked.

"I know a technique called Occlumency." Not that she was an expert at it, but she did technically _know_ it.

"Never heard of it," he said bluntly.

"It is the art of clearing your own mind of emotions and thoughts thus preventing a Legi– intruder from finding anything important. If you are really good at it, you can suppress and hide only specific parts of your mind, making the intruder think there is less than what is actually there."

Brom eyes grew wide again and then he gave a vicious smile. "Impressive. What you are describing is known here, but only by the greatest of magicians, though we don't call it by that name. Usually, a person focuses on one thing above all others, so that is all an opponent will find in their mind. Think very hard of a brick wall and that is all they will see. Mind you, that still requires a great deal of concentration and discipline. If you are distracted by even the slightest thing, your walls will waver and the opponent can slip through. What you describe as Occlumency is better however – _if_ you are capable of doing it perfectly – it allows you to make your opponent believe that you know less then what you actually know. Giving the enemy misinformation is often better than giving them no information, after all."

"Wait a minute. . ." she gave Brom an odd look. "Are you telling me that all it takes to keep someone out of your mind is to concentrate very had on one thing?" that sounded infinitely easier than what she had tried to learn.

"Well. . ." Brom looked at her cautiously, perhaps sensing her slowly rising temper. "Yes, but what you do is better, if you can do it perfectly." She couldn't do it perfectly though; she was barely passable in it even.

 _That bastard!_ She had spent _hours_ upon _hours_ trying to learn this when Snape simply could have taught her this easier version. _Good enough never was good enough for him,_ she grumbled internally.

Brom rode past a maple tree, and plucked one of the few remaining leafs from one of its branches.

"Take this," he motioned for her to take the leaf.

She took the leaf and looked closely at it from all directions. After a while she concluded there was absolutely nothing special about it.  
She looked to Brom and allowed her raised eyebrow to convey her question.

Brom looked amused, " Use this to try and learn to use our magic. Place it on the palm of your hand and try to make it float. Don't use your own powers, there would be little point to this if you did. The words are 'lauf reisa', 'lauf' being 'leaf' and 'reisa' meaning 'rise'."  
 _  
_"One more thing," she said _,_ "I still want to know the difference between a sorcerer, a magician and this worlds version of a wizard."

"They are all magicians in a way," Brom explained, "A wizard is a magician who uses things that are already innately magical to increase his power. Mostly this takes the form of potions. A sorcerer is a magician that uses spirits to augment his powers. Using spirits is one of the most dangerous things a magician can do and requires the magician to already be quite powerful lest he be possessed by them. Using things like plants and such that already have a magical quality to them, like wizards do, is safer. Many of the weakest magic users end up becoming wizards. It is why I say they are often the weakest of magic users. I suppose that technically a magician is someone who uses only his own energy to accomplish his spells, but we mostly use the term to describe all magic users. The word spellweaver can also be used to describe a magician. All Riders automatically become magicians, extremely powerful magicians even. "  
 _  
Well… that's a bummer. I had hoped that the wizards and witches I would find would be like me, but… I guess not._

She took the maple leaf in her right hand, the left still holding the rains of her horse, and said _,_ "lauf reisa!"

It didn't move.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"What are werecats _?"_ spoke Eragon. He had rejoined them a while ago. They had long since left Teirm behind.

"Why the sudden curiosity?" Brom asked.

"I heard someone mention them in Teirm," Judging by how over top nonchalant he was trying to sound, she thought he was lying. She suspected Brom knew it too, but he didn't call him out on it. "They aren't real are they?"

Helena answered his question before Brom could. "They are real. I Met one of them in Teirm actually, Solembum was its name. It was somewhat rude, but It did tell me some interesting things."  
 _  
_Eragon jerked in surprise.  
 _  
_"Remember its words," Brom said to her, "They always seemed to be exceptionally well informed about what goes on in the world. They were once as famous– well infamous I suppose, as the dragons. Kings and elves liked to keep them around as companions, though don't ever mistake them for a comment pet. They are at least as intelligent as you or I. They have made themselves rather scares since the fall of the Riders. I am surprised one chose to reveal himself to you." Brom seemed to consider something for a moment, "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. Its words were meant for you, but if you want to share?" Helena found it hilarious how badly he was trying to pretend not to seem to interested.

Well, a second opinion might be useful I suppose. "It told me that I wasn't human, or at least not completely. That while I look human, my mind was different somehow."

"Hmm," Brom stroked his beard a few times, "Would you consent to having me examine your mind,"

When he noticed the stormy look on Helena's face he hastily added _,_ "I won't look past the surface, and I won't look at anything you don't want me to."

"I suppose that would be alright," she said, "If you go where you are not wanted however, I am done giving you the benefit of the doubt," she warned him with her eyes narrowed to convey her seriousness.

"Fair enough," Brom nodded, "but if you want to learn how to fight with your mind, your… 'sparring partner' for a lack of a better term, will inevitably end up seeing some of your memories."

That didn't sound pleasant – scratch that, she _knew_ that wasn't pleasant, "Couldn't I just practice with Godric?"

Brom shook his head. "He is as much a novice at this as you. It would help, but it is no substitute for training with a master," he gave her a cocky smirk, "which I am. Beyond that, the bond between a rider and dragon makes it difficult for your two minds to fight each other; you are meant to work together. Though If you refuse to train with anyone else, it's better than nothing." He turned to Eragon, "You should learn this as well." Unlike Helena, he didn't seem to have as much of a problem with sharing his mind with Brom.

 _Bollocks, I really need to learn that skill._ She would think on it more later. _Now what where we talking about…. Oh yea!_

"The werecat also gave a prophecy of sorts. Something about a Menoa tree and a Rock of Kuthian," Helena said, hoping that Brom might know something about either.

"I got the same thing!" Eragon exclaimed _._

"What do you mean? I thought you only heard mention of them," Helena asked with faux innocence. She wasn't sure what he meant by 'the same thing', but it was clear he met Solembum as well. _Ha! I knew it._

Brom looked amused and said, "There was no need to lie about this Eragon."

"Sorry," he looked down guiltily.

Brom looked at Eragon fondly, "It's alright, no harm done. now what happened exactly?"

"This werecat, Solembum. I met him too, and he said something about a weapon under the roots of the Menoa tree and a Rock of Kuthian."

 _So we got the same prophecy… That's… not usually how it works._

"That's interesting," Brom said while stroking his beard again, "if you both received the same words, then it likely was a message meant for the Riders in general, rather than a prophecy meant for any of you personally. I don't know anything about a Rock of Kuthian, though it rings strangely familiar in my ears. The Menoa tree is famous however, it's a tree that grows in the middle of the elvish capital of Ellesméra. Legend has it that the elf Linnëa sang herself into the tree because of guilt, after she had murdered her lover for cheating on her."

"If it is famous then why have I never heard of it?" Eragon asked.

"And how can you sing yourself into a tree?" Helena asked immediately afterwards.

"Many stories and knowledge has been lost since the fall of the riders," Brom told Eragon,"and the elves are capable of many things," Brom answered her question without answering her question.

Helena and Eragon shared a look, and wordlessly conveyed their irritation with old men and their proclivity for acting mysterious.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Brom looked up to the sun, "Hmm, I think it's about time for lunch. Let's find an out of the way spot for Eragon, Saphira and Godric to join us." Eragon had once again taken to the air earlier, apparently wanting to make up for lost time since spending over a week in Teirm.

They moved a few miles to the north, to the forests that stood at the foot of the mountains that made up The Spine. Once they found a nice clearing Brom and Helena mentally contacted Saphira and Godric respectively so as to give them their location.

When Saphira landed, a shivering Eragon quickly made his way to a nice relatively warm rock that had been warmed by the sun and stood close to the campfire Helena had created.  
Helena could sympathies. Flying was wonderful, but she knew it could get cold up there, especially in the begging of December.  
For some _unfathomable_ reason, warming charms were forbidden during quidditch matches and her old captain Oliver Wood – the slave driver – wanted to emulate the conditions of the actual matches as much as possible, so he forbid them as well during practice.

Helena was feeling a little cold herself so Godric had the bright idea to blow a bit of hot air her way. The warmth felt nice, but he had recently returned from a hunt so his breath smelled horrible, and Helena warned him to _never_ _ever_ do that again.

They ate in silence, but Helena noticed that Eragon seemed a bit nervous some reason.

When they finished their meal Eragon turned to Brom, "I need to ask you a few things. I would have liked to do it back in Teirm but,. . .," he shot a glance at Helena, "a lot of things were happening at the time, but now that we have a moment. . ." he trailed of.

"Inform the criers, Eragon chose to wait before asking questions," Brom exclaimed with a sarcastic smile,"What do you want to talk about?"

Eragon hesitate for a moment. "There's a lot going on that I don't understand. Who are these _'friends'_ you mentioned, and why were you hiding in Carvehall? I trust you with my life – I wouldn't still be traveling with you if I didn't – but I must know more about who you are and what you are doing and why. What did you steal in Gil'ead, and what is the 'tuatha de orotheim' that you're taking me through? I think that after everything that has happened I deserve an explanation."

Helena spoke up. "Ye know, I have been wondering that too: who you are, I mean. You seem to know a great many things about the Riders of old, not to mention your knowledge of magic, which you claim is rare. I don't accept for a moment that you are just a simple story teller."

Brom glared at Eragon, ignoring Helena for the moment. "You eavesdropped on me and Joed."  
 _  
_Eragon looked guilty for a instant, but then he schooled his features and held brom's gaze. "Only once, and I don't regret it. You were discussing my future. I had a right to know."

"I see that you have yet to learn proper manners,"Brom said scowling,"What makes you think that this concerns you? Either of you?" he looked from Helena to Eragon.

"Nothing, really," said Eragon shrugging. _"_ Just as Helena said, it is odd that you know so much dragon lore, and it's a big coincidence that you happened to be hiding in Carvahall when I found Saphira's egg. The more I think about it, the less likely it seems. There were other clues that I mostly ignored, but they're obvious now that I can look back on them. Like how you knew of the Ra'zac in the first place, and why they ran away when you approached. And I can't help but wonder if you had something to do with the appearance of Saphira's egg. There's a lot you haven't told us, and Saphira and I can't afford to ignore these questions when there is a chance our ignorance on it could be dangerous." He looked at Godric and Helena."I believe it is the same for you and Godric," he said.

She nodded, "It is. Besides," she motioned towards Godric's, "I am going to be astonished if whatever. . . 'this' is," she made an all-encompassing gesture, "doesn't end up concerning us in some way."  
 _  
_Dark lines appeared on Brom's forehead. "Neither of you will wait?"

Eragon shook his head and Helena said, "We can't afford to trust blindly; you ask to much of us."

Brom sighed. "This wouldn't be a problem if you weren't so suspicious, but I suppose you have the right of it. However,. . ." he trailed off giving Helena a scrutinizing look.

"You can't afford to blindly trust me either," Helena said sadly.

Brom looked at nothing for a while, looking thoughtful. "It may surprise you to learn that I do trust you, but a lot more lives than just my own are at stake here, and I can't afford to take chances." He turned back to Helena and gave her a hard look. "I told you that it is impossible to lie in the Ancient Language. Please repeat after me. Eka Umalthinae eom ai ebithil unné daéda. eka hávr néiat lygi eom ono ea Floero ono."  
 _  
_"What do those words mean?" she asked warily. It would be the height of idiocy to speak words that have to be true if you don't know what they mean. For all she knew, she was giving this world's equivalent of an unbreakable vow without knowing it.

"They mean: I do not serve a master or lord. I have not lied or deceived you."

 _This really is like a safer and easier version of the unbreakable vow,_ Helena thought to herself. She found it a bit disturbing how easy such a thing was here.  
She thought carefully about the words, and she couldn't remember any time she had deceived them in any way.  
 _  
_She spoke evenly, and with a solemn tone that befitted such oaths and promises _._ "Eka utauthr du könungr, eka utauthr ai daéda, Eka Umalthinae eom ai ebithil."

"You too Godric," Brom said.

'What? _'_ Godric asked, surprised at being addressed.

Brom smirked. "It is an old trick; a rider promises one thing or to keep a secret or the like. Meanwhile his dragon makes no such promises, and is free to do whatever he wishes. I am not fool enough to ignore you, dragon."  
 _  
_Helena could tell that Godric seemed torn between being annoyed that he was forced to prove himself and pleased that he wasn't being overlooked. Regardless, he dutifully recited the words.  
 _  
_"Very well," Brom said, "but you have to understand that I cannot reveal everything." Eragon started to protest, but Brom cut him off. "It isn't out of a desire to withhold information, but because some of the secrets I have aren't mine to give. There are other stories interwoven with this narrative. You will have to talk to the others in involved to discover the rest."

"Fair enough," Eragon said. Helena nodded as well, "please explain what you can."

Brom signed, "As you wish. I had hoped to wait a while longer to tell you these things. There is a reason behind my reluctance. There are forces in this world that would tear you apart and once you know of them you won't be able to ignore them anymore."

'Very Dumbledore this one,' Helena commented wryly to Godric.

'let's hope not,' Godric snorted. Helena knew that Godric didn't have a high opinion of her old headmaster. He felt that Dumbledore had played too loosely with Helena's life.

"Are you sure you want to know?" Brom continued, he directed the question more at Eragon then at her. "Once I tell you, you will have to make some though choices. I ask again: are you sure?"  
 _  
_"I cannot live my life in ignorance,"said Eragon quietly, but firmly.

"A worthy goal," Brom sighed, "Very well. There is a war raging in Alagaësia between the Varden and the Empire. Their conflict, however, reaches far beyond any armed clashes. They are locked in a titanic power struggle centered around you. You and Saphira, and once he knows of them, Godric and Helena as well."

"Me?"said Eragon, disbelieving. "That's impossible. I don't have anything to do with either of them."

"Yet," Brom said simply. He looked at Helena, "You don't seem surprised."  
 _  
_"I guessed as much already actually," Helena said, "I know enough about the Riders already to know that they were–– are powerful. Someone like Galbatorix would not allow such a power to run around, unless he can control it."

Brom nodded, "You are right. The Varden and the Empire aren't fighting to control this land or its people. Their goal is to control the next generation of Riders of whom you two are the first. Whoever controls these Riders will become the undisputed master of Alagaësia."

"The Varden want to control us too?" The frustration in Helena's voice made it clear what she thought of that idea.

"Maybe that isn't the right word," Brom said carefully, "They mostly want your help to remove Galbatorix from power however…" Brom grimaced, "It would be wrong of me not to warn you that there are indeed some among them that would want to bind you to them."

"Wait," Eragon said, "I thought, all the Riders were killed except for the Forsworn, who joined Galbatorix. As far as I know, even those are now dead. And you told me in Carvahall that no one knows if there are still dragons in Alagaësia."

"What about the other two dragon eggs that you mentioned?" Helena questioned.  
 _  
_Eragon looked towards her in shock and Brom looked a bit miffed.

"I am sorry. Was that supposed to be a secret?" She asked, smiling. She wasn't sorry, he shouldn't have kept such a thing from him.

Brom signed, "No, I was going to tell it now anyway." He looked at Eragon, looking just the slightest bit guilty. "I lied about the dragons. Even though the Riders are gone, there are still three dragon eggs left—all of them in Galbatorix's possession. Actually there are only two now, since Saphira hatched. The king salvaged the three during his last great battle with the Riders."

'What about me?' Godric asked.

"You know, that's a very good question," Brom said, looking frustrated. "I don't know how you are possible. The other two eggs are supposed to be so well guarded right now that any attempt to steal them would be suicide. Beyond that, when Saphira's egg was stolen, the king went on a small rampage. Not many people knew the cause, but all knew something had happened to displease the king greatly. If he had lost one of the remaining two eggs, then there should be some word from Urü'Baen about a similar reaction." He looked thoughtfully at Godric, "Dragons are supposed to be somewhat aware of their surroundings even before they hatch, do you remembering anything."

Helena looked at Godric in shock, _surely he would have said something if he knew. . ._

'I remember nothing from before Helena found me,' Godric said.

 _Ah never mind._

Brom rubbed his forehead in annoyance, muttering, "Of course he doesn't remember; that would be too easy."

"So Galbatorix has one or two eggs in his possession? Depending on where Godric came from," Eragon asked, putting the conversation back on track."So there will soon be at least one new rider loyal to the king?"

"Exactly," said Brom. "That is the nature of the current conflict between Galbatorix and the Varden. He is desperately trying to find the people for whom his eggs will hatch, while the Varden are even more desperately employing every means possible to prevent this. Either by stealing the eggs or by killing his candidates."  
 _  
_"Just how likely is he to succeed?" Helena asked. "If he has had the eggs since the fall of the Riders then he has been trying to get them to hatch for more than a century by now, without success."

"Actually he has only been trying to get the eggs to hatch for about twenty years now, after most of the forsworn had been killed. And the vast majority of the people in the empire haven't been tested yet," Brom said.

"Twenty years is still a long time," Helena pointed out. Once she and Godric entered the stage the war would likely be decided within a few years, one way or the other.

"For the first four of those twenty years he had all three of the eggs so he didn't feel the need to be hasty. Even afterwards, he mostly only introduced the eggs to those fully loyal to him. Now that he knows about Saphira, he might make more of an effort for the remaining two."  
 _  
_'How did I get away from Galbatorix?' Saphira asked. "And how do you know all this?" added Eragon simultaneously.

"One at a time!" Brom bellowed. "First Saphira. Your egg was stolen many years ago, around the same time you were born, Eragon. Back then I was a bit younger, though perhaps not as wise, I hated the empire – for reasons that I will keep to myself – and wanted to damage it in however I could. My fervor led me to a scholar, Jeod, who claimed to have discovered a book that showed a secret passageway into Galbatorix's castle. I eagerly brought Jeod to the Varden – they are my 'friends' – and they arranged to have the eggs stolen."  
 _  
_'The Varden!' Helena excitedly projected her thoughts to Godric.

'It seems we got our way in, convenient,' Godric mused. Helena could tell he was also pleased by the development.

"Something went amiss, however, and our thief only got one egg. For some reason he fled with it and didn't return it to the Varden. Eventually, Joed and I were sent to bring both the thief and the egg back." Brom's eyes grew distant."That was the start to one of the greatest searches in history. We raced against the Ra'zac and Morzan, last of the Forsworn and the king's most powerful servant. After––"

"Morzan!" interrupted Eragon, causing Brom to look at him in annoyance. "But he was the one who betrayed the Riders to Galbatorix!"

"That reminds me," Helena spoke up. "The king is one hundred thirty-three years old. I know the Riders led long lives, but just how long is that?"

"They are immortal," Brom said bluntly.

 _What!_ Helena thought, stunned. Eragon, too, was speechless, his mouth hanging open.

"You can still die of course, a sword trough your heart would kill you like any other, and you are still susceptible to diseases, but as long as you can avoid all those things, you will live forever," He elaborated further. "Now where was I?" Brom muttered to himself, continuing as if he hadn't just upended their world view. "Ah yes, our search let us to Gil'ead. Morzan had gotten his hands on the egg before us. There was bad blood between Morzan and me, that and desperation let to me to challenging him for possession of the egg. It was a terrible contest, but in the end I slew him. There was no ti–– "  
 _  
_"How?" interrupted Helena.

"If you people keep interrupting me we will be here all day!" Brom snapped.

"How did you defeat a Rider and his dragon on your own?" she pressed on. It sounded like an almost impossible feat.

"There is a lot more to a magical duel then simple power, girl. Quick thinking, cunning, overconfidence on Morzan's part, creativity and a great deal of luck allowed me to defeat Morzan, and his dragon was… not as dangerous as a dragon normally is. Now, if I can please finish my epic tale of dare and do I would appreciate it," Brom (in Helena's opinion) nagged.

Helena still had plenty of questions, but she waved her hand magnanimously, "Proceed."

Eragon chuckled and Brom mumbled something about disrespectful brats, but he did continue his story.  
 _  
_"So after I slew Morzan, I had lost Joed somewhere. There was no time to search for him, so I took the egg and brought it to the Varden, who asked me to train whomever became the new Rider. I agreed and decided to hide in Carvahall—which I had been to several times before—until the Varden contacted me. I was never summoned."

"So how did Saphira's egg appear in the Spine?" asked Eragon.

"I suspect that the egg's guardian must have tried to send it to me with magic. The situation must have been desperate for her to resort to such a measure. They knew I was in Carvahall, but she has never visited me there, so she wouldn't know exactly where I lived. That explained why the egg didn't simply appear in my house, however for it appear right in front of your nose in the Spine, is, admittedly, a big coincidence. I don't know if there is more at play there. The Varden haven't contacted me to explain how they lost the egg, so I suspect that their runners were intercepted by the Empire and the Ra'zac were sent in their place. I'm sure they were quite eager to find me, as I've managed to foil many of their plans."

"You know, with Joed's and many other sympathetic merchants loosing goods combined with your messages being intercepted I am beginning to suspect the Varden have a spy problem," Helena mused.

Brom nodded grimly. "I suspect much the same."

 _Something to keep in mind,_ Helena and Godric agreed.

"So the Ra'zac originally came searching for you," Eragon said.

"That's right," replied Brom. "In a way I have you to thank for my life. If the Ra'zac hadn't become so preoccupied with you, they might have caught me unawares, and that would have been the end of Brom the storyteller. The only reason they ran was because I'm stronger than the two of them, at least during the day. They must have planned to drug me during the night, then question me about the egg."

"So have you told the Varden about us?" asked Eragon.

"I had Joed send a message to them back in Teirm. I didn't mention Helena and Godric though."

"Why not?" asked Helena, surprised.

"As you have already guessed, there might be a traitor within the Varden, so there is a chance the message will be intercepted. And even if it isn't, if the traitor is placed high enough, they could learn the contends and report to Galbatorix. He already knows of Saphira, but nobody knows anything about you and Godric. I would like you to be kept secret for as long as possible," Brom answered, looking at the red dragon.

Helena's opinion of Brom rose a few notches.

"If you are part of the Varden, why aren't you taking us to them? Being with them must be safer then chasing after the Ra'zac, especially for a new rider," Eragon asked.

Helena signed. "I would like to believe that to be true," Her forlorn expression making it clear that she didn't, making Eragon look at her in confusion.

Brom looked fondly at Eragon again, "Make no mistake, the Varden are dangerous people. If we go to them, you will be entangled in their politics and machinations. Their leaders may send you on missions just to make a point, even though you might not be strong enough for them. I want you to be well prepared before you go anywhere near the Varden. At least while we pursue the Ra'zac, I don't have to worry about someone poisoning your water. This is the lesser of two evils. And," he said with a smile,"it keeps you happy while I train you and the girl." Helena was starting to really hate being called 'the girl'.

"Tuatha du orothrim is just a stage in your instruction, it means 'tempering the fool's wisdom'. I will help you find—and perhaps even kill—the Ra'zac in the meantime, for they are as much my enemies as yours. But then you will have to make a choice."

"And that would be…?" asked Eragon warily.

"Whether to join the Varden," said Brom. He shot a warning glance at Helena, but she kept silent, "If you kill the Ra'zac, the only ways for you to escape Galbatorix's wrath will be to seek the Varden's protection, flee to Surda, or plead for the king's mercy and join his forces. Even if you don't kill the Ra'zac, you will still face this choice eventually."

Eragon seemed very unsettled by this news and was quiet for some time.  
 _  
_"I notice that you still haven't explained how you know so much about the dragons and the riders," Helena pointed out.

"No I didn't, nor will I," Brom smiled, "I have to keep some secrets."

When it was clear that Brom was done talking, Eragon wondered off for a while to think. Giving Helena time to consider all she had learned.

'Are you alright, dear one,' Godric asked, concerned when he could sense her mood dropping.

'Yea… it's just…. the immortality thing. That is a big deal for me.' She had spent half of her life fighting someone who had immortality as his ultimate goal. The thought that she was now an immortal herself was disconcerting… and somewhat ironic, she had to admit.

After a while, when it was clear Eragon was out of earshot Brom turned to her. "Thank you for not saying you are going to join the Varden."

"I am that obvious am I? I don't want to influence his decision. It is clear he has a crush on me."

"A crush? Is that like an infatuation?" Helena nodded. "It's fitting, don't you think?" Brom gave her a lopsided grin.

"I guess," Helena said neutrally. Eragon was a nice kid and his admiration was flattering, but he was somewhat younger than her and they had only just met.  
 _  
_"You're right, I don't want you to influence his decision," Brom said seriously, "He must make his own choice, on his own time. Although," Brom smiled, "I already know what choice he is going to make."

There was a definite look of pride in his eyes.

* * *

AN:  
Yes this was a lot of canon rehashing. I didn't know how to get around it.


	7. Mind, Body, and Magic

Before they moved on, Helena asked Brom when he was going to check her mind to see if it really was any different than any other human mind. Brom saw no reason to delay and thus they now both sat cross-legged across from each other.  
 _  
_"Now, just my surface thoughts old man. I don't want you to go poking your nose where it doesn't belong."

"Old man." Brom muttered, shaking his head. "I already said I wouldn't go any deeper." He paused for a seconds. "Although, if you want to practice how to fight with your mind, you will inevitably reveal a few unpleasant memories'"  
 _  
_"Godric really wouldn't be enough?" she asked pleadingly. He was the only one that Helena had no problems sharing all of her mind with.

Brom shook his head _._ "The Rider bond makes it almost impossible for you two to truly take any hostile actions against each other. It wouldn't work."  
 _  
_"… fine" Helena conceded grudgingly. Mental combat was something she felt she _really_ needed to learn.

"Are you ready? As I said, I won't go any further than simply getting a feel of your mind today."

"Go ahead," As soon as she said it, she started to feel Brom's mind prodding at the edge of her own. That still surprised her from time to time, the way she now had an extra mental sense. Kind of like a seventh sense. She already had a sixth sense to sense and do magic with. It was like Occlumency or Legilimency, but _more_ ; her mind was free now in a way that scared her sometimes. As if her mind could simply drift away on the wind, never to return.

She felt caution from Brom followed soon by surprise and even a little awe. She felt Brom break the connection. His eyes were wide, and he was looking at her with an expression she couldn't define; she just knew it was intense and that she didn't like it. "Well… there is definitely something special about you, something that I have never seen before," he said.

"What do you mean?" she asked tentatively.

"Your mind is unlike any other that I have ever encountered." Brom face took on a contemplative expression, "In fact, if I had to compare it to something, I would compare it to that of a dragon."

"A dragon?" she leaned forward in interest. She wasn't really sure how to feel about that, it was nice to have something in common with Godric, but on the other hand… well it was yet another change to get used too, yet another thing to set her apart.

"There are some differences of course," he told her. "You're less bound to your instincts than they are, and you share some characteristics that all bipedal races have. But there is a dept to your mind that is normally only ever found in dragons." He leaned backwards, shrugging his shoulders, "I don't know what it all means, but I am glad you're on our side."  
 _  
_"So… am I human or what?" she asked insistently; that was after all why she agreed to this in the first place.

"You have to be human," Brom said with certainty. "Your mind is simply… more… and just _more_ than most humans, but if you truly were a completely different race, then Godric would not have hatched for you."

"why?" she asked, falling back strait and looking bewildered.

"The spell that insures that Riders are possible is an old pact between Dragons, Elves and Humans. If you weren't an elf or a human, then Godric wouldn't have been able to choose you. You certainly aren't an elf; thus you must be human."

That stuff about a pact between races was interesting, but she focused on what she judged to be more important. She leaned forward again, "Godric… chose me?"

Brom nodded. "Ever since the riders were established, the dragons used to offer a small portion of their eggs to the elves, and later humans, to present to their young. Until the dragon in the egg feels they have found a person they feel is worthy to partner with them, they don't hatch _."_

Helena wasn't sure what to think about the whole being _more_ thing. It sounded like she was better than others, and that sort of thinking was _dangerous_. It sounded too much like old pureblood propaganda.  
Her feelings on the whole 'being chosen' thing were easier to discern, she felt both honored and proud Godric had deemed her worthy.  
The moment she thought that, she felt Godric lightly admonish her because _of course_ he had chosen her, silly.

"It makes a bit of sense actually," Brom said. Helena didn't say anything and just waited for him to clarify. "The magic you are capable of… only dragons and spirits are ever seen using magic that seemingly breaks all the rules. When you think about it, it seems logical that your minds would share some characteristics. Though you have a lot more control over those powers than a dragon does. I wouldn't know if you have anything in common with a spirit; I never had the opportunity to study them."

That raised an interesting possibility in Helena's mind. 'Does this mean you can use Wizarding Magic?' she asked Godric privately.

 _'No. As the old man said, I have no control over my powers. Though, I knew I had them,'_ Godric answered to Helena's disappointment. It was something to look into though. . .

Eragon returned shortly after that and they continued on their journey.

When the sky started to glow orange and yellow they started to look for a good place to camp for the night. They found shelter near a cave. It didn't look like a natural cave. Brom told everyone that it was likely carved out by some dragon long before the fall of the riders. No creature but a dragon would – or even could – carve out this large a hole in a solid rock. Well… the dwarves might, but they would have left other signs behind.

Eragon went to look for water and Brom started to make dinner. Saphira and Godric were being lazy, and were simply enjoying the last rays of sunlight. 'This weather is uncomfortable. Dragons are not meant for this cold weather,' Godric complained to her.

'There is nothing I can do about that,' Helena responded. She was seated in the back of the cave, stubbornly trying to make her maple leaf float. "lauf reisa!"

Brom stopped skinning the rabbid and looked at her curiously.

"lauf reisa!"

"You know, you're not going to pick this up in one day," he said.

Helena ignored him. "lauf reisa!" Pure stubbornness had always been her best trait when learning magic.

"Most riders have to practice for months, sometimes years even, before they can use magic at will," Brom continued.  
 _  
_"I have been doing magic for more than seven years now. lauf reisa!" she couldn't believe she was having trouble making a damn piece of leaf fly! It was like she was a first year again.  
 _  
_"What you do is different. I thought it was possible that because of your own talents you would pick this up easily, but clearly that isn't the case. Have some patience, it will come," Brom urged.

"It is important that I learn this. As long as I don't, any run of the mill magician will be able to wipe the floor with me. I can't afford that. lauf reisa!"

 _Stupid leaf._

"It's not that bad," Brom tried to sooth her. "You won't be able to beat any shades, elfs and maybe the top percentage of magicians in the land and _**certainly**_ not Galbatorix, but most magicians barely know even a few words of the Ancient Language." _  
_  
That made her stop.  
 _  
"What? Why?"_ she asked, baffled.  
 _  
_"For magicians, knowledge is power and few give away power freely," Brom told her.  
 _  
_"Nobody has written a dictionary of some sort and made it available?" She grew up in a time were almost all knowledge of magic was readily available, even the dangerous kind could be accessed if you had permission. The only exceptions where the evilest of magics that are best forgotten.

"Only the elves have such a thing."

"They don't share? What about the riders of old? Didn't they share what they knew?"

Brom looked reluctant to tell her more for a second, but then he answered "The elves are… weary of humans. They don't think they can be trusted with such powers. Galbatorix has only made that distrust worse. The riders of old were much the same."

Helena took a moment to mull over that piece of information. She put a finger to her lips and spoke slowly, "That sounds… incredibly arrogant of them".

"You are not the first to say so." He gave her a look that she found a bit uncomfortable, and she had to stop herself from fidgeting under his piercing gaze.

She had to admit that she was a bit… disappointed with her predecessors.

"Did the human Riders really go along with this?" she asked.

"They were forbidden from sharing the secrets of the riders, off which the full knowledge of the Ancient Language was part of, and a student's instruction didn't progress past a certain point until they were deemed responsible enough by their instructors to know more."

 _Until they agreed with the doctrine you mean._  
 _  
_"Why doesn't Galbatorix just give a dictionary to his servants?" she wondered out loud. If he did that than they could easily overwhelm any of his enemy's.

"I imagine he doesn't want to have any rivals," Brom shrugged. Helena conceded that made sense for Galbatorix… but darn it! the good guys were supposed to be better than that!

They were silent after that.

'Is something wrong, dear one?' Godric asked. He already knew something was wrong of course. He was simply asking if she wanted to talk about it.

'It's just… everyone talks about the Riders as if they are the keepers of some great golden era that could do no wrong. To learn about… well you heard it too right? They shouldn't hoard things like that. I guess I shouldn't have thought that they would be perfect, they were people after all, but well… I just am.'  
 _  
_'You are among the first of the new generation. If you feel that they got it wrong in the past, then do better yourself in the future,' Godric counseled.

'I suppose there is wisdom in that,' she sighed _._ After a while she added. 'I am also still trying to work through the whole immortality issue. You know I have a bad history with immortality.'

'Bah! Don't worry, chances are we will both end up as some bloody smear on ground somewhere within the next couple of years.' Godric said cheerfully.

'Thanks Godric, I feel much better now,' Helena said sarcastically.

His reply took on a more serious tone. 'All I am saying is that we should make sure we both have a future, before we worry about how long that future will be.'

'I know you're right, and I will try to stop moping about it. I well probably get over it soon.' _I hope.  
_  
Any further dialogue between her and Godric was interrupted when, seemingly without reason, Saphira let out a load roar and started trashing wildly.

"What in damna––" Brom began, but was cut off when Saphira knocked him over and was then pinned in place by one of her front paws. She was careful to avoid touching him with her claws, though.

Helena tried to reach out with her mind to talk to her, but she was blocked by an immovable wall in the dragon's mind.

'Godric! I can't reach her. Can you calm her down,' Helena asked.

'I can't,' he said. 'She is blocking me as well.' There was a bit of hurt in his voice.  
 _  
_'Let me go damn it! _'_ Brom yelled.

Saphira ignored him and proceeded to turn her body so that she stood closer to Helena, and then knocked her to the ground as well, covering her with her wings. Godric roared in protest and made to attack Saphira, but Helena managed to stop him. 'Stop, let's wait until Eragon gets here. She isn't actually harming us.' Godric grumbled, but complied. He kept his muscles tense and his eyes narrowed on Saphira however.  
After a few minutes of tense waiting – accompanied by Brom screaming some very creative profanities – Eragon walked into the cave… only to be nearly skewered by Saphira's trashing tail.

"Stop. It's me!" Eragon yelled, raising his hands.

Saphira stopped trashing and turned to Eragon. Helena knew they were having a silent conversation from the way Eragon's eyes seemed to lose focus.

"Where are Brom and Helena?" Eragon asked out loud.  
 _  
_"I am here. What is happening?" Helena asked from underneath Saphira's wing, trying to be as calm as possible.

"I am right here!" Brom yelled from under Saphira's paw. "Now tell this overgrown lizard to get off of me!"

Saphira moved her towards Brom and growled menacingly.

Brom was unimpressed – something Helena couldn't help but admire – and continued to yell, "Oh I am sorry your majesty! If you don't want to be talked to like an animal, then don't act like one! Now let me go!"

"Let him go," Eragon said, exasperated. "Didn't you tell them?"

 _'No,'_ Saphira said to everyone, _'_ you just said to keep them safe.' Saphira let them go and Godric allowed himself to relax again.

Brom opened him mouth to no doubt yell some more, but Eragon cut him off. "I found an Urgal footprint; It's fresh."  
 _  
_Brom turned on what Helena called 'Moody mode' "Saddle the horses; We are leaving."  
Brom moved over to the horses while Helena went to put out campfire.

She opened the palm of her, pointed it at the campfire and called out "Glacius!". A blast of freezing cold air extinguished the flames and covered the ground and part of the cave wall in icy frost.

Eragon still stood at the front of the cave, unmoving. "What is wrong with your arm?"called Brom.

Now that Brom had called attention to it, Helena noticed that Eragon was grimacing and was gingerly holding his forearm. "I broke my wrist."

Brom let out a curse. "We will put a splint on it later. Don't put any strain on it until then." Brom turned to Saphira _._ "It's almost dark; you might as well fly over us. If Urgals show up, they'll think twice about attacking with you nearby."  
 _  
_'They had better, or they will never think again,' Saphira said – showing her teeth as she did so – right before she took to the sky.

He addressed Godric next. "You go on ahead and keep out of sight."

'I will not hide like some coward!' Godric snarled.  
 _  
_"No!" Brom ordered. Helena jumped a little due to the force of the command. _"_ You have no idea how important you are! Galbatorix knows about Saphira, but nobody knows anything about you. We must keep it that way for as long as possible."

'He is right, Godric," Helena said.

Godric was still for a moment and then wordlessly, with feelings alone, conveyed his wish to her.

After thinking it over for a second she agreed, "I will be flying on Godric. Take care of Allie for me."

With danger lurking, Godric really didn't want to be separated from her, and Helena had to admit that having him close by was reassuring.

"You don't have a saddle; you'll tear your legs and thighs apart," objected Brom.

"I will be fine," she said. She could place a _Cushioning Charm_ on the scales near her legs. At least she hoped that she could, if dragon scales are even more magic resistant then wyvern scales she would be in trouble. She also hoped the spell wouldn't fail at an inopportune time _._ The version she used wasn't permanent – only people like professional broom makers knew how do that – and with her mutated magic and possible magic resisted scales there was no way to tell how long it would last.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

To Helena's surprise Godric's scales weren't magic resisted at all. At least no more resisted then any average magical creature. Helena had mixed feelings about this:  
On one hand – it made her job now a lot easier.  
On the other hand – this meant that Godric was a lot more vulnerable to hostile magic than she had assumed.

After applying her charm, Helena climbed unto Godric's back and set herself at the beginning of his neck. She tried to get a firm grip on the spike in front of her. She would need to be careful not to be skewered by it. His scales still felt uncomfortable on her skin, but not unbearably so.

Brom and Eragon were calling out tips and advice to her, but she wasn't listening; She was way too excited.

'Ready,' Godric spoke to her, voice heavy with anticipation. He was already crouching and Helena felt his hind legs tense under her.

"Go!" she yelled out loud.

In one fluid motion Godric pushed himself of the ground, and with two mighty strokes of his wings he rose far above the treelike.

Helena felt a grin split her face as she felt the cold air rushing past her face, her hair flying loose and wild in every direction. The sun had had almost fallen below the ocean in the west, a beautiful orange line of light separating the dark waters from the heavens. To the north and south of her she could clearly see the mountains of the spine, their snow covered tops where still somewhat illuminated by the last dying rays of sunlight. She could see the Toark river, a black line cutting the land, flowing from the ocean into the southeast were it flowed through a small pass that cut through the mountain range. She rose even higher to the point where they were flying level with the clouds. At this height, Teirm was but a small white spot on the landscape.

'Enough Godric, fly lower. We need to be able to bail out our companions if it they get overwhelmed. Besides, I am freezing up here." It was true; the cold air felt uncomfortable in her lungs. Already she could feel her fingers starting to burn painfully, and her nose becoming numb.

Still, none of those things could dampen the joy she felt at flying again.

'I have missed this,' she said as Godric lowered herself to flying around hundred yards above the tree tops.

Godric didn't reply with words, but she could feel his contentment.

Helena knew that he was holding back though. With only the grip of her thighs around his neck and a vertical grip on one of his spikes, he was making an effort to not make any sudden movements lest she be thrown off.

A hunting horn sounded in the distance.

'The Urgals must have found them, or at least their trail, _'_ Helena confided her worries _._

'Shall we go and save them?' Godric asked, eager at the prospect of battle.

'At least, let us fly close enough for us to mentally contact them,' Helena decided.

Once they were close enough, they contacted Brom, but his only response was a brusk 'Stay away!'  
 _  
_Eragon was a bit more helpful, and informed them that the Urgals were on their trail, but hadn't caught up to them yet. Brom apparently hoped to outrun or lose them.

Godric and Helena kept their distance as best as they could, but resolved to stay within mental contact range in case they needed help. They flew for about half an hour in silence. Only the blowing of the wind past her ears, the rhythmic beats of Godric's wings and the periodic blowing of the Urgal horn breaking the quiet of the open air.

They flew like that until a panicked Saphira contacted them. _'_ Come quickly! Eragon has fainted!'

Godric raced towards them as fast as he dared with Helena not being properly saddled.

When they arrived they saw Eragon lying limply on the ground, Saphira hunched over him, biting, clawing and swinger her tail, trying to keep the Urgals at bay.  
This was the first time that Helena had laid eyes on these creatures that had caused the people of Teirm to talk of them with both hate and fear.  
There were twenty-four of them. They stood as tall as humans, had a dull grey skin, and all had a pair of horns on their head that reminded Helena of rams.  
eighteen of them circled Saphira. They were all wielding different weapons, from axes, to spears, to swords, all decorated with bones and symbols that Helena couldn't make sense of. The other six stood a mere ten yards away from Saphira, shooting arrows from their short bows.  
Helena could already see a couple of arrow shafts sticking out of Saphira's wings. They made sure that at least one of them always had an arrow knocked. Probably to limit Saphira's maneuverability since she had to make sure to always shield Eragon from that line of fire.

Helena raised her hand and cast the summoning charm on Eragon's clothes. He shot out from under Saphira towards were Godric was descending from the sky.  
Saphira's head shot towards Eragon in a panic, but she relaxed noticeably when she saw that he was flying towards safety. Helena used 'raw magic' to catch Eragon mid-flight and keep him floating a few feet beside her. Moving and levitating things was by far the easiest thing she could do with her new powers.

No longer being encumbered by having to defend her vulnerable rider, Saphira tore into the Urgals with a vengeance.  
With Saphira now free to attack at will – though she was still weakened from the numerous wounds she had taken – and another dragon with a proven magic user about to join the battle, the Urgals decided that they had enough and fled. They ran away in four groups of six in four different directions.

With the danger seemingly over, Helena dismounted from Godric's back and gently lowered Eragon to the ground.  
"What happened?" Brom asked Saphira, as he rode towards them on Snowfire with Cadoc and Elladora in being led by their rains.

"I would like to know that as well," said Helena.

Saphira told them how Eragon had asked her to land in front of the Urgals. After a brief 'discussion' were the Urgals asked Eragon to come with them to meet their mysterious leader, Eragon used magic to throw them all off their feet.

'There were to many of them,' Saphira said voice heavy with emotion due to the recent fear of almost losing Eragon. 'The drain of the magic was killing him. I was able to keep him alive by giving him a lot of my own energy, but the effort left me weakened for the following fight.'  
 _  
_"That rock-brained idiot," Brom muttered, rubbing his forehead tiredly, "What was he thinking?"  
Helena had to agree with Brom. He had to have known that throwing two dozen Urgals was beyond his strength. Brom must have told him that doing something with his magic required the same amount of energy as if it was accomplished through natural means, Brom had been teaching him for far longer than her. He had to have known this was folly.

Godric's opinion of Eragon also took a nose dive.

"We need to hunt down those fleeing Urgals. They saw not only Saphira, but you and Godric as well," Brom said, he had already tended to Saphira's wounds as best as he could on short notice. "Are you well enough to fly?" he asked Saphira.

'I will manage,' she said.

Brom looked at were Eragon was lying on the ground with a troubled expression. "One of us should stay behind to look after him."  
 _  
_After a brief discussion it was decided that Helena should stay behind. She thought it should be Saphira since she was injured, but she insisted on hunting down, in her own words, 'her fleeing evening snack'. Helena was a bit surprised that she was willing to leave her rider behind at a time like this, but when she mentioned it Saphira told her she was better equipped to look after him than her in this case, and that she trusted that Helena wouldn't allow any harm to come to Eragon.

There was an implied, 'or else' at the end of that statement.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Godric, Saphira and Brom didn't return for two days – though they did occasionally contact her to tell her they were fine – and Helena decided she could make better use of her time by starting to brew a Skele-Gro potion to mend Eragon's broken bones rather than just sitting around doing nothing. She didn't dare use any healing magic on him with her magic still being somewhat unpredictable. Besides, she was never all that good at healing magic to begin with, and if that failed, it always made things worse.

She pulled out a cauldron and the necessary ingredients out of her Mokeskin pouch – the opening becoming larger to let out the large cauldron – and got to work.

It was nearly noon when Eragon finally started to wake up. Out of the corner of her eye Helena saw him bolt upright and looking about himself with panic.  
 _  
_"Easy there, your safe _,"_ she said without stopping her work. She was currently cutting apart some scarab beetles, and had an open book of 'Advanced Potion-Making' floating a few inches away from her face.

Eragon winced, Helena guessed that he must have tried to move his broken wrist.

"I wouldn't be moving around much if I were you," she said, probably unnecessarily.

"What happened to the Urgals?" she heard him ask.

"Saphira, Brom and Godric are chasing after them. They – and I as well – are none too happy with you right now," she said, as evenly as possible.

"What happened?" she could hear the trepidation in his voice.

"You nearly killed yourself, trying to stop the Urgals as you did, that's what happened. You have been asleep for two days."

"I didn't expect it to take as much out of it as it did," Eragon said.

"Why didn't you? Brom explained how magic worked didn't he?" if she wasn't currently focusing on her ingredients she would be giving him her best disappointed look that she was capable of.  
 _  
_"I couldn't do nothing! The Urgals were catching up to Brom, I had to do something _,"_ Eragon defended.

Helena frowned, "Far be it for me to chastise anyone for doing stupidly heroic things, but there were plenty of better ways you could have gone about doing it. Why not fire a few small rocks at great speed at them? Or try to break their necks? The most dangerous thing about your kind of magic seems to be precision, not raw power."  
 _  
_"I didn't want to kill them," Eragon said in a small voice. She could respect and even approve of a desire not to kill unless you have to, but there were better ways to do that too.

"Then find some way to blind them, harass them with your bow from the relative safety of Saphira's back. Even just challenging them with your sword or simply sick Saphira on them would have been better than what you did."

"You're really angry aren't you, _"_ Eragon said, while looking at his feet.

"I am not angry," she signed. "A little disappointed, perhaps."  
 _  
_"I am sorry," he said miserably.

"I know you are." A memory of her walking into the hospital wing of Hogwarts, looking on all of her injured friends who she had foolishly led into a trap came to her. "I always was," she said so softly she wasn't sure that Eragon heard her. She shook her head to chase away the memories and pointed to a point a few feet away from him. "You have been asleep for two days; you should be famished by now. There is some stew prepared for you over there."

Helena's words seemed to remind Eragon that he was, in fact, starving and he tore into the stew.  
 _  
_"How are the others?" he asked between bites.

"Saphira was disappointed. Brom looked livid and Godric thinks you're an idiot," Helena replied honestly "Expect a lecture when they return. In fact, I think that's them right now. . ."

Helena could, indeed, at that moment feel Godric appearing within their mental contact range.

"Yep… I think that's them right now," she repeated.

Godric, Brom and Saphira – whom was carrying Brom – appeared seconds later.

Helena moved in between her ingredients and the landing dragons so they wouldn't be blown away by the displaced air.

Brom jumped of off Saphira in one smooth motion, a stormy expression on his face, and made to move towards Eragon.  
 _  
_"Before you begin," Helena called out to them. "Could you move this elsewhere? I have a limited supply of ingredients and I don't want to risk them."

Eragon shot her a betrayed look, and Brom scowled at her, but he did drag them a few yards away from where she was working.  
 _  
_'Did you get them all?' she asked absently as she put the pieces of scarab beetles into a small, ordinary, leather pouch.

'No. Two of them got away.' Godric said, clearly unhappy with himself.

'We lost them near a small hamlet named 'Fishers-rest. A small settlement that you wouldn't even find on a map.' Saphira added. 'I never would have landed near the Urgals if I knew what he had planned.'

'It wasn't wrong of him to try and save Brom; I would have thought even less of him had he just let him die. He just needs to think before he acts is all,' Helena said. She took out a Puffer-fish and started to grind it into fine powder.

Saphira blinked one eye at her. 'I hope you will be a good influence on Eragon.' With that closing statement, she walked to a nice sunny spot of grass, stretched in a decidedly feline fashion and went to take a nap. Helena didn't blame her. She had been awake for a long time and that wasn't even counting the wounds she had taken and the energy she gave away to keep Eragon alive.

Helena kept working in silence until Brom asked, "What exactly are you making?" Apparently he was done berating Eragon for the moment.  
 _  
_"I am making Skele-Gro. It is a potion meant to heal Eragon's broken arm and wrist." He broke his arm in addition to his already broken wrist when he fell of Saphira.

"How long will that take?" Brom asked, "We can't stay here for long."

"I should be done in a few hours. Once he takes the potion his bones will mend in less than a day."

"That fast!" exclaimed Eragon. "That's great. Then we can continue on to Dras-Leona immediately."

"No," Brom said. "I still want to take some time to beat some common sense into you. Besides, this will give me an opportunity to train Helena as I trained you. She might get hurt otherwise."

Helena was a little irritated that Brom was trying to use her perceived weakness as an excuse to get Eragon to agree with him. She could take care of herself!

It worked embarrassingly well, once Brom mentioned the possibility of her getting hurt he immediately agreed to the delay.

Brom sat himself down on the ground and took out a simple piece of bread to eat. Things were relatively quiet for the next hour.

"How does that work exactly?" Brom asked later in the day.

"Hmm, what?" Helena asked absently. She wasn't really paying attention to anything but her potion. She didn't want to make a mistake this close to being finished and have to do it all over again.

"Your potion, how does it work?" Brom repeated. Eragon, and even Saphira, also looked curious.

Helena rubbed the back of her head sheepishly. "I don't actually know; I just follow the recipe."

"I mean potions in general," Brom clarified, "What you do isn't unheard of, but few actually know how or why it works."

Helena tried to recall the explanation that Slughorn had once gave her. "Hmm, well some of the ingredients I use have inherent magical properties, but there is more to it than that. A potion takes the ehm…"she had trouble finding the right words. "Symbols? Soul? Personality? Meaning? Yea, meaning is a good word for it. They take the meaning of the ingredients and with the help of the inherent magical properties of the other ingredients, and the witches own power create special effects."

"What do you mean by 'the meaning' of things?" Eragon asked.

Helena smiled. "I know it sounds weird. At first, I didn't get it either. . . probably still don't to be honest. There is more to the world then just what we can see. A stone is more than just a stone and a tree is more than just a tree. A stone holds the meaning of unyielding. A tree holds the meaning of life and age. A flower of growth and so forth. A lot of things have more than one meaning and a true potionier tries to discover new ways of using these things, and to discover new hidden meanings of things."

Helena struggled to find for an example. "Hmm, let's say you have a potion that causes hiccups. Let's say you add a piece of sunflower to it and this – hypothetically speaking, it probably wouldn't do any such thing – causes the hiccups to get so bad that the drinker starts making comically high jumps of five feet into the air––"  
 _  
_"That's impossible." Interrupted Eragon.

"With magic, few things are impossible Eragon. My own magic especially treats the normal rules of the universe more as general suggestions at best, a shrug of indifference at worst. Now where was I...? Ah yes! does that mean that a sunflower holds the meaning of 'increase'? of 'height'? of 'air'? of 'sickness' perhaps, since hiccups is usually considered a bad, if minor, condition to have. A true master spends his days experimenting to discover more about these things. It is very much an art form. I confess I am not very good at it myself, I just follow the recipes of smarter witches that have gone before me."

Brom spoke up. "The way you talk about things having a deeper meaning, behind the physical world. It is a very…," When she looked at him, he looked like he was trying to find a tactful way to say something rude. "poetical way of looking at the world. Some might even call it superstition," he said bluntly.

 _Is he trying to provoke me?_

Helena shrugged her shoulders. "I just know that it works. Now no more questions; I am almost done."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"I have to drink this?" Eragon was staring at the small bottle in which Helena had poured the Skele-Gro in disgust. Helena didn't blame him, it looked like a tick grey sludge, and a foul smelling gas was rising from its surface.

"Yep," Helena said with an overly cheerful voice and putting an exaggerated popping sound on the letter P.

"You're not trying to poison me are you?"Eragon asked suspiciously, "I already said I was sorry."

"Just drink the potion, Eragon. The faster you drink it, the faster it will be over."

"Are you sure this is how it is supposed to look," Eragon continued to stall, eying the smoking liquid dubiously.

"Are… are you saying you don't trust me," Helena tried her best to add a small tremble to her voice and to look as sad as possible, curling her bottom lip outwards. It was difficult; she had to exert a lot of effort to keep the corners of her mouth from twitching upwards.

Her act had the desired effect, and after a moment where she could see Eragon visible trying to muster his courage. He drank the potion.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Eragon's arm was indeed completely healed within a day, much to his astonishment. Even Brom seemed impressed.

"We will still be traveling to Dras-Leona, but slower, and we will stay away from the main roads,"Brom decided.

While traveling Brom presented Eragon and Helena with a continues stream of potential scenarios involving magic, Urgals, enemy magicians, shades – Helena learned that a shade was a possessed sorcerer, and was equal, and most of the time even superior, to a Rider in terms of power – hostile dragons, and somethings something as simple as having their identity's discovered by a random traveler.  
There was even one memorable scenario that had them attending a noble's dinner table, with his children making blatant attempts to seduce them both. Eragon had ended up being poisoned in that one. Helena had survived it, but she did end up offending their hypothetical host, and potentially causing a generation long feud.  
Overall Helena came up with better answers than Eragon, though Brom said she was a little soft at times.

"I get that you don't like killing, and I am very glad of it, but there are dangerous times ahead of you and I worry you won't survive if you don't harden yourself when the situation requires it."

Helena already knew that, but having someone else confront her with it shook her a little.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx  
 _  
_Brom and Helena stood in a private clearing away from the others. Brom thought their presence would interfere with what he needed to do.

"Alright girl, I know you have a form of magic that doesn't tire you, but you will still need something to defend yourself when somebody gets into melee range." Brom went to pick up a small branch and threw it at Helena; she caught it without problem. "This will do as a substitute for a sword until we can find you something better."

Helena held the stick with both hands in front of her. She had to admit that she was exited to learn this, since well... swords were cool.

Her excitement didn't last long.

Brom seemed to follow the Snape philosophy when it came to teaching sword fighting.  
Keep punishing mistakes until the student's instinct for survival kicks in and they get it right. Giving only minimal instructions in the form of 'Don't do this!' Or 'Don't do that!'.

Helena was lying on her back, breathing heavily, exhausted, and bruised all over. Brom was taller than her, more skilled than her, stronger than her, and was faster than a man who looked to be in his late fifties had any right to be.  
Helena had never been physically strong and had never done any sports except for quidditch, which relied more on technique than any muscles. The broom did most of the work. The only thing she had going for her were reflexes, but they didn't do much good if Brom could simply power through her parries.

Brom stood over her, a frown on his face. "You are completely hopeless at this," he said mercilessly.

Helena simply groaned, too tired and in pain to defend herself.  
 _  
_Brom was stroking his beard thoughtfully. "Perhaps I am going about this the wrong way; magic will always be your primary weapon. For you the purpose of this isn't to beat your opponent, but to keep your opponents at a distance, and as a last line of defense. Perhaps something with more reach would suit you better."

Helena tried to glared at him, though the effect was somewhat ruined by her exhaustion. _Why couldn't he have said so from the beginning!_

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Helena stood warily in front of Brom, staff in hand. He had given her his own quarterstaff; it was a few inches higher then she herself was tall. It also had some very nice runes carved into them. Helena had asked what the runes meant, so Brom translated the words for her.

They said: _'We leave home not to escape from our destiny, but so we can make our own.'_ Helena liked it.  
 _  
_"Begin!"Brom shouted.

Helena started with a vertical underhanded blow to Brom's right leg, but he nimbly dodged it and brought his shorter stick down upon the fingers of her right hand.

She yelled out in pain and dropped the staff. She crouched low and cradled her hand close to her body, blowing cool air on her fingers who were throbbing in pain _._

"I refrained from hitting your hands before this, since it is assumed that your sword will have a cross guard to protect them, but a staff has no such protection." Helena did her best to glare at him, but again, the effect was probably lessened, this time by the pain and the tears that started to form in her eyes.  
 _  
_"I held back, you know? If I truly had put some force behind that strike your fingers would be broken." They continued practicing for thirty more minutes after that

When they stumbled back to the others, and Eragon saw the beaten up state she was in, he started to verbal tear into Brom; he just ignored him with impassive stoicism.

"Enough Eragon," she said weakly, Merlin she was tired.

"You can barely walk," Eragon protested.

"I have to learn," she said simply.

Eragon clenched his fists in frustration, "You shouldn't even need to fight."

"Why?"

"You're. . ." he made some vague gesturing motions towards her.

"Female?" she guessed. He nodded hesitantly.

She sighed, back in Teirm she had tried to get a good feel of the culture of the land, and society's view of women was a part of that. It wasn't as bad as she had feared; women weren't considered _less_ than men, but there were clearly defined gender roles. To her surprise most of the woman she had met thus far seemed to be totally okay with their roles. "I don't want to deal with this," she muttered. "Brom!" she called out, he answered her with a glance, "explain the concept of different cultures to him, I am too tired."

She laid herself down under a tree, and closer her eyes, focusing on nothing but the slowly fading pain of her injuries.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"We should probably use this time to make you a saddle, Helena." Brom said.

"That would be nice, yes," Helena had flown one more time on Godric since the disasters with the Urgals, but even with a cushioning charm it was uncomfortable and they only did it for a few minutes.  
 _  
_"Where will you get the leather?" Eragon asked.

Brom made a face that was somewhere between grim and disgusted. "We will have to tan some animal skins ourselves."  
 _  
_"I will help. It is for my own saddle after all, "Helena offered.  
 _  
_"Are you sure?" Brom asked neutrally.  
 _  
_"It is only right that I help out. It is, after all, for my sake we are doing this," Helena repeated. Ignoring Eragon who was making wild vertical motions with his arms, clearly trying to warn her not to say yes. _How bad could it be?_

A evil sadistic smirk appeared on Brom's face and Helena knew she had just made a terrible mistake.  
 _  
_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Godric and Saphira brought them two large brown bear.

Removing the skin from the flesh, while by no means pleasant, wasn't that bad. She had done similar things during potion class, though not on this scale.  
Next they washed the skin in water. Removing all the dirt and blood, this was by far the easiest part of the process.  
Things got nasty after that. They had to remove the hair, fat and flesh from the skin. They did this by first submerging the hide in urine – after a ehm. . . generous donation from Godric – for a few hours. After they took it out, Helena had to scrape of all the loosed hair and fat with a blunt single-edged knife from the outside of the skin. Brom removed the flesh and fat with a sharp double-edged knife from the inside of the skin.

The smell was horrendous.

What came next was worse. They had to soften the would-be leather by washing it with a warm solution of water and dung. Again, Godric rose to the challenge!

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Helena walked stiffly to their camp, Brom following close behind her. They worked a few hundred yards away from the camp to keep the smell away.

When Eragon saw her, she had her arms lifted away from her body and her fingers where making a clawing motion to keep any part of her skin from rubbing against any other part of her skin.  
 _  
_"I tried to warn you," Eragon said. He tried to sound sympathetic, but there was a glint of amusement in his eyes.

"That was by far the most disgusting thing I have _ever_ done." Helena whimpered.

Eragon nodded, "Gedric, the tanner back in Careahall, explained his job to me once."

"He has my deepest respects for being able to do this every day. Now, if you don't mind, I am going to wash myself in the nearby stream for a couple of hours." _  
_  
Brom made a coughing sound behind her. He was just as dirty as Helena, but was being less dramatic about it. "Actually, with me being your teacher. According to the traditions of the Riders, the first one to bathe should be––– "

"Godric!" Helena yelled out.

Godric crouched low and started growling at Brom, baring his teeth.

"…should obviously be you. Just don't take too long. Please."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

They still weren't done however, thought the worst was behind them.

Next they needed to collect some oak bark. Godric helped them by rubbing his scales against a few oak trees. The oak bark was then ground into powder, courtesy of Helena's more destructive spells, and then mixed with water. After that, they submerged the bear skin into the solution, after that, Brom called Eragon for some assistance.  
Brom taught him a lengthy spell that he would have to cast over their project. "This would normally need to stay soaked in there for several months, often even more than a year. This spell will significantly speed up the process. Since you are stronger than me, it is best that you do it, Eragon. And on that note, Helena, I am going to start instructing you on the ancient Language alongside Eragon. Even if you can't use it yet, you will eventually need to know it." That was something Helena agreed with. She never thought she would look forward to normal studying, but she would welcome any break from Brom's weapon lessons.  
 _  
_Once Eragon had cast the spell, and after waiting a few hours they finally had complete serviceable leather.

Turning the leather into a saddle was almost anticlimactically easy after that. Brom called Eragon again, and asked if he still remembered how it was done from when they had made Saphira's saddle together.  
Turns out that Eragon had a pretty decent memory, and was able to explain the process to Helena. Brom only had to help him two times.

Helena was very glad when they were finally done.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Finally," Helena said tiredly with her shoulders slumped.

"It isn't pretty, but it will do." Brom commented.

It looked similar to any normal horse's saddle with only a few differences, besides size of course. There was a thick loop that fitted around one of Godric's neck spike. A long strip ran down between his forelegs to then split in two once it reached his belly, to then rejoin the saddle. Helena guessed this was for extra stability.  
Just like Brom said, it wasn't pretty, it looked like something that was made in a hurry, but Helena wasn't complaining. They had worked too hard on this for her not to appreciate the result. It was functional; that was all she cared about.

Once they were done Saphira immediately challenged them. Helena wasn't clear on what exactly Saphira was challenging them to, but Godric seemed to understand. _Must be a dragon thing._

Turns out it was basically a contests of just showing off, and who can best terrify their respective riders with near suicidal stunts and dives. Saphira seemed to be the better flyer, but to be fair, she was also older and had more experience flying with a passenger.

Despite losing their impromptu flying contests, Helena was having the time of her life. Godric and her went deeper in their mental bond then they had ever done before.  
Helena almost completely abandoned her own senses and instead came to see how Godric viewed the world. Red colors were highlighted in his eyes. It was as the world was constantly in a state of dusk or dawn, though no less bright than it was in the middle of the day. She had once heard that red colors could cause aggression, but this didn't feel angry, it simply felt warm. She felt Godric's instincts as if they were her own. Godric seemed to just _know_ wherever the wind was going to go, though Godric later informed her that there was a bit more to it. He also seemed to rely on his tail a lot more then she had expected.

After an hour and half of flying they came back down to the ground, and Helena discovered a downside to sharing her mind with Godric to such a deep extend. She had abandoned her own senses to such a decree that she didn't notice that she was freezing. Her lips were blue and she couldn't feel her finger, and her feet were only slightly better off.  
Once she dismounted she started to release a continuous steam of flame from her hands to warm the surrounding air somewhat. Strangely enough, the flames she produced were of a uniform red color instead of the normal mix of orange, red, blue, and yellow. She had her back to Godric's scales so she could enjoy his great body heat. She couldn't bring herself to regret what they did though.

Eragon was dressed a little warmer than her, but he too gladly took advantage of his dragons naturally warm scales.

Once they felt a little less like living ice sculptures they moved over to their campfire where Brom was waiting.

"I see you have been enjoying yourself," Brom said when he saw the large grin sporting across Helena's face.

"Flying has always been one of my favorite things in the world," she said smiling.

"How did you fly before you had Godric?" Eragon asked.

"My people had the ability to enchant objects to make them fly. Brooms, carpets and other vehicles."

"Like carriages?" Eragon queried.  
 _  
_"Among other things." She wasn't even going to try to explain the concept of a motorcycle to him.

"We actually had a game that was played in the air with flying broomsticks. I lost mine in a fight, however. The last time I flew before I met Godric was on the back of a wyvern."

"How did that happen?" Brom asked with a chuckle.

"Me and two of my friends were robbing a bank. The wyvern was guarding one of the vaults. We freed it, and escaped on its back as it flew away."  
 _  
_"…"

"…"  
 _  
_"What?" she asked after a tense silence were they just looked at her with dumbfounded expression; they both looked remarkably similar making that expression.

"You were robbing a bank?" Brom asked.

"It was for a good cause I swear!"

"How so?" Eragon asked.

"An evil wizard hid a dark artifact in there that we needed to destroy."

"There is story there," Brom said.  
 _  
_"You have no idea." Helena muttered.

Eragon looked like he couldn't decide what to ask about first. "What is a wyvern?" he eventually decided on.

To her surprise, it was Brom who answered. "They are distantly related to the Dragons. They aren't as intelligent, don't have the same ability to use magic and lack a pair of forelegs. They have been driven out of Alagaësia a long time ago due to competition with the dragons. Occasionally a single specimen may stumble into Alagaësia, but that hasn't happened since before the fall of the Riders."

"I don't know if the ones here are the same, but where I come from wizards used to hunt them for sport, and for their various body parts, for potion ingredients mostly. Over time they evolved to have really magic resisted scales to protect themselves… which ironically made them even more sought after so they could make magic resisted clothing."

"Are there dragons were you come from?" Eragon asked. Saphira raised head to look at her, obviously also interested.

"There used to be. The last of them died centuries ago. They were never as numerous as they were here." Saphira lowered her head in disappointment.

She didn't want to tell them that it was her own kind that had hunted them to extinction. She still felt guilty about that.

'Stop that.' Godric said, sounding exasperated, 'You are not responsible for that. Or do you hold me responsible for the actions of the dragons of the forsworn.'

'Of course not, but the forsworn never exterminated a whole race… besides maybe their own.'

'My point still stands, you are not responsible for what those who came before you did.'

'I guess you are right. I still can't help feeling guilty about it, sorry.' From Godric she got a feeling of resigned acceptance. 'Of course you can't,' he said.

"So, about this evil wizard." Eragon started. Helena knew he was going to ask about that, he was too curious not to. "Can you tell us more about that?"

"Perhaps someday, I don't want to go into it right now. It's long story and personal story that is still a bit to fresh for me."

Eragon was clearly disappointed, and perhaps even hurt, but didn't press further.

They were silent for a while until Helena thought of something odd.

"Say Brom, I have been wondering about something," Helena said.

"What is it?"

"I know it's a silly question, but If Galbatorix is called a king, then why do we call the land he rules 'An Empire' and not a kingdom?"

Eragon perked up. "Yea… now that you mention it, that is strange."

"An interesting question Helena," Brom said. "We call it an empire since Galbatorix has made no secret of the fact that he wants to rule over all of Alagaësia. As for why he is still called a king… well the Broddring kingdom… Ah dammit! Neither of you know what the Broddring kingdom is, do you?" Eragon and Helena both shook their heads. "Well to put it simply: it was the human kingdom that existed before Galbatorix took over. It was a lot smaller then what the empire is today, its old southern border ended at what is now called Urû'baen. Officially it still exists, though it is little more than a name on royal decrees. It does explain why Galbatorix calls himself a king, however. The people of the kingdom were used to obeying orders from a king, so after Galbatorix took over, he simply called himself one."

"I assume he killed the previous line of kings?" Eragon asked dryly.

"For the most part. Thought the current king of Surda is still distantly related to the old royal family, The House of Langfeld."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Helena saw an opening and launched a high overhead strike at Brom's left shoulder. They had agreed not to go for head shots.  
To Helena's surprise, Brom blocked the strike with his forearm and used this opening the move in close, poking her ribs with his stick. Hard. "You are dead. Again."

"You can't block with your bare skin," Helena protested.

"I very much can. I am using a sword. You are using staff. I can afford to take some hits from you. At worst my arm would now be broken, but any hit from a real sword will wound you severely. Don't take risks when you are using a mostly non-lethal weapon and your opponent is using sharp steel. Again, don't focus on doing damage, but on keeping distance."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Helena and Brom once again sat cross legged in front of each other, but this time Brom wouldn't merely be checking out the surface of her mind. This time they would both try to violently break into the others mind.

"Are you sure about this? I will inevitably end up seeing some things you probably don't want me to see." Brom asked seriously.

She braced herself. "Bring it."

"Well in that case lets agree to immediately withdraw if we breach the others defenses. You are not the only one that has things we don't want others to know. Also I insist that we both swear an oath not to reveal any secrets we find in the others mind except under the direst of circumstances."

"Fair enough," she said. Even though the oath was spoken in the Ancient Language, 'direst of circumstances' was vague enough to get around it if she really needed to.

It turned out that Brom was just as good at mental combat as he was with physical weapons.  
Brom's mind at times reminded her of a slippery fish; almost impossible to hold on to.  
At times it reminded her of a spear. Making 'sharp' painful jabs at her, sometimes with just his mental attacks, sometimes with insults in order to break her concentration.  
She was used to a mental attacker using insults to break her concentration – Snape had done much the same thing – but that that didn't mean it was completely ineffective. She tried to do the same thing to him, but he was simply too disciplined to fall for any such tricks.  
Helena had way more mental 'power' for lack of a batter term, but that seemed to matter little in the face of Brom's experience and discipline. It was like she was a really strong and fast street brawler fighting a martial arts monk from one of those Kung Fu movies that Dudley used to go on about.

Once they were done Brom nodded approvingly at her. "You have a talent for this," he said.

Helena looked at him incredulously. "Don't look at me like that," Brom said. "For a first try this was very good. You show almost as much talent for this as Eragon did when I started teaching him swordplay, and he has already become my equal in that." Brom stroked his beard. "We shall continue to practice this every evening. By the time we reach Dras-Leona you should definitely be competent at this."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Brom had told her one of the disadvantages of using a staff was that it was harder to carry on your person as say a sword, which you can carry at your waist. Helena had smirked at that point, and used a shrinking charm to reduce the staff to less than half its original length. Granted it wasn't a permanent enchantment, but she could reapply the charm easily enough without people noticing.

Brom had muttered something about having to stop being surprised at the things she could do.

This had giving Helena an idea however, and the next time when they sparred, and Brom dodged backwards from a jab, she used the Engorgement Charm to lengthen her staff instead of shrinking it.

It connected, and Brom grunted when he took a hit to the belly.

He looked at her with a strange glint in his eyes, "Alright, tell me. How else can you alter that staff?"

She replied honestly. "I can increase and decrease its size and weight." She could also change the color, but she didn't think that was relevant.

This had Brom looking thoughtful. "Can you increase its weight mid swing?"

"Probably." Would take some practice to get the timing right, but it was certainly possible.

Brom looked pensive. "And when you increase its weight, does this also cause a decrease in momentum?"

"No. Why would it?" Helena asked, looking confused.

Brom rubbed the bridge of his nose in exasperation. "Never mind. I want you to practice increasing your staffs weight just before you are about to hit your target and decrease it at any other time. I also want you to practice that trick you just did where you lengthen your reach in the middle of a fight. If you can train yourself to do these things without thinking, then you may become worth something in a close quarters fight."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Helena sat with her back to a tree with a small notebook in her hand.

They had passed the Spine just the other day and now traveled along the vast plains that made up the majority of the empire.  
After Brom had told her how she could use some basic charms to increase the strength of her blows she was trying to come up with other ways to use some of her spells in ways she hadn't thought of before, and writing them down.

"What are you writing?" Eragon had come up behind her and was now staring over her shoulder at her notes. Standing there in the sunlight, with his light brown hair, equaly brown eyes, his simple green tunic, and the short bow slung an across his back; he looked like how she imagined Robin Hood might look like when she was a little girl growing up in Surrey.

"Just some general ideas," she said.

After coming up with the trick of manipulating her staff, she was thinking and writing down all the different spells she knew and trying to come up with new ways to use them in combat.  
To the surprise of many, Helena never actually tended to use a great deal of combat spells. She reasoned that in a wizards duel you needed one spell to disarm, one spell to knock someone unconscienced, one to shield against hostile magic, and one to do more permanent harm. Anything beyond that she had considered as: 'Fun to know, but ultimately not needed'. If you want to get better at fighting; you are better off practicing the spells you already knew plus dodging, speed, and accuracy. She would admit that there are a lot of useful spells to alter the environment to your advantage, but in the heat of combat you rarely have the time for such things.  
Of course, that changed when she learned that the magic here operating under a whole new set of rules. Now, knowing some obscure spell that nobody would think to ward against would have come in handy. She had all her school books with her, thankfully, so she had taken to trying to learn a few that might be useful in the future, but it was slow going; mostly due to her not daring to test them out on anyone but enemies.

"No I mean the symbols themselves." Eragon said, giving a pointed look at the strange symbols on her paper.

"Oh. We call them ancient runes. As its name suggests: it is a very old style of writing that not many people use anymore. Back in my world a lot of old and classical works written by ancient wizards were written in this script. My school offered an elective…" At Eragon's confused look she elaborated. "An optional class. We had to pick at least two of them. At first I had divination instead, but I ended up changing it fairly early on."

"Divination?" Eragon said in surprise. "Like seeing the future? Why would you trade that for learning a script that most people don't even use anymore?"

"I had no talent for it, and the teacher kept on predicting my grisly death once every lesson."

McGonagall had been very eager to help her change her elective when she brought the issue to her. Originally she wanted to change it to muggle studies for another easy class – she had been fairly sure she could convince Ron to swish with her if she did that – but Hermione had given her a look of such profound disappointment that she ended up changing her mind. Sulking all the way, she moodily made her way to McGonagall's office. Her Head of House had taken one look at Helena standing there like a very sad puppy and immediately come to the correct conclusion as to why she had changed her mind; and in a rare moment of playfulness, had padded her on the head, and said in a mocking consoling voice, "There, there, it won't be so bad."  
At first she had some hope that it would be interesting. Perhaps she would learn some cool runic magic, drawing figures into the air and conjuring cool effects, but alas it was truly nothing more than a dead language.

Hermione had assured her it had some practical applications, like using the meaning of the symbols to help guide enchantments. When Helena had asked why they couldn't just use normal English with the normal alphabet for that like reasonable people Hermione had gotten very offended, going on and on about some sort of Futhark master race.  
She did make Hermione help her catch up to the rest of the class, though. Since it was at the bushy haired girl's urging that Helena took one of the most theory heavy classes in Hogwarts, she could bloody well help her out.

Ron taking ancient runes, sadly, was simply not going to happen.

"Not a real fortune teller then. You obviously never died," he said.

She remembered a green light racing towards her in a clearing in the Forbidden Forest.

"Yea, obviously," she said blandly.

"Your writing in beautiful," he complemented, "Mine looks like chicken walked all over the paper;" he said sourly.

"You are new to this. You will get better eventually," she tried to reassure him.

'Don't feel too bad,' Godric joined the conversation. 'Helena has been practicing her hand writing for more than ten years now,' he said with obvious pride. He always seemed to take pride in her achievements as if they were his own. _''_ In fact, she was planning to be a teacher. It isn't surprising that she is good at this.'

Helena shot Godric an annoyed look. She wasn't sure that she wanted to share that. It wasn't like she considered it a secret. she just... didn't want to think about those things. It might be an impossible goal now, since she might never return home.

She felt Godric cringe internally over having brought up painful memories.

"You wanted to become a teacher?" Eragon asked.

She had indeed wanted to become a teacher. Helena had struggled in choosing between that, and becoming a Auror, but in the end, being able to stay at Hogwarts was the deciding factor.

"Yea. I used to teach a couple of fellow students Defense Against the Dark Arts – magical self-defense basically – I found out that I liked it and that I had a talent for it. Beyond that, it was a way for me to stay at Hogwarts - my old school. It was the only place where I ever felt truly at home," the melancholy in her voice was clear. Then her voice turned bitter. "Obviously, that won't be happening now."

"I am sorry I brought it up." Eragon apologized, looking ashamed of himself.

"You didn't know," She shrugged. Honestly, how he was always trying to please her and keep her happy was flattering, but there was such a thing as trying too hard. She wished he would loosen up a little around her.

Eragon seemed to be considering something. Eventually he said, "If you want to talk about it. I am willing to listen."

There were many things that she didn't want to think about yet, but maybe. . .

"You want to know about how I first learned I was a witch?"

Eragon gave a victorious smile. "Of course". He eagerly sat down on the grass beside her.

"Well you see, it all started when I got this letter. . ."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Brom dodged to the left, but she knew he couldn't move fast enough to completely dodge her strike.  
As she had been practicing, she slightly – she didn't want to break bones – increased her staffs weight and. . .

With a loud crack, her staffed crashed into the side of a tree that she hadn't noticed was there. Brom usually demanded all her attention if she wanted to keep up with him, so she hadn't been paying attention to anything else.

The shock of it raced up the staff and trough her body, temporarily stunning her and numbing her hands.  
Brom used the opportunity to knock her feet out from under her, and raised his blade (stick) to her throat.

"And you are dead, again. Don't lose track of your surroundings."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It was near nightfall when they arrived at Leona lake. Leona was a very calm lake that had a surface of about three square miles.

They had chosen to push themselves hard in order to reach it before nightfall. Eragon had been eager to see it and Brow had wanted to profit from the ecosystem such a large body of water provided to restocking their supplies.

Helena had chosen to fly on Godric that day and saw it long before the others did. Leona lake was large, and the reflection of the sunlight on its calm surface was breathtaking.

By the time Eragon and Brom arrived she and Godric had already spend an hour playing in the water. She had found that if she tried hard enough, she could now create a Bubble-Head charm that covered not just her face, but the majority of her body. Since Godric could hold his breath for several minutes at a time, this allowed them to freely explore the underwater world.  
They had raced across the bottom of the lake, past the limited flora that managed to survive in such conditions, and past the panicking fishes. Godric had a great time chasing them, though with limited success; he wasn't an underwater creature by nature.  
Helena had offered to use her magic to make it easier for him to catch them but – as she had guessed he would do – he turned her down.  
Her clothes had still gotten wet, despite the protective layer of air that surrounded most of her, but a quick utterance of _"_ _exaresco."_ took care of that.

By the time Brom and Eragon arrived she had already started setting up a camp.

Saphira had arrived a little while before that, and had given them a cool but polite greeting.  
Sadly, Godric's low opinion of Eragon had created a slight rift between the two dragons.

"What took you guys so long?" she asked with a playful smile. It was obvious for all to see that she was in a good mood.

Both of them were too tired give a response, and quickly set themselves on the ground, groaning in relief. As previously mentioned, they had punched themselves hard.

Taking pity on them Helena took care of making dinner, and most other tasks that needed doing. Eragon did help somewhat, too much of gentlemen to let her do all the work, despite his exhaustion and her protests.  
Brom had no such compulsion, and with a relieved sigh sat down near the water's edge with his bare feet submerged in the cool water.  
Once their tasks were done, Eragon joined Brom near the lake, also soaking his feet in water. .

Helena joined them, but decided that she had spent enough time today in water. The wrinkles in her fingertips had only recently disappeared. The sun had already set, and sitting here under the light of the stars and moon with Brom and Eragon near this lake was peacefull.

Eragon stared hard at the flat dark water's surface, only the slight ripples moving from were their legs touched the water disturbing it. "Something odd happened the other day," he said.

"What did you do this time?" Brom asked, looking resigned, clearly expecting more trouble.

Eragon gave Brom a glare, but continued, "I scryed a person I have never met before, except in dreams."

"What's scrying?" Helena asked.

"Using magic to watch events that happen far away, by projecting an image on a clear surface like water or a mirror," Eragon said before Brom could respond.

"Just so," Brom said. "As far as I know, it's impossible to scry something that doesn't exists. Meaning that this person definitely exists. Meaning that these are more than just simple dreams. I have a few theories, none of them likely."

"Can you do again now?" she asked curiously. "we have a clear surface right there." She waved towards the water.

"I guess. . ." he trailed off, looking at Brom.

Brom shrugged. "If you have already successfully done it once there is no harm in it, so long as you don't exhaust yourself keeping the image up to long."

Eragon held his arm over the water and then spoke softly, "Draumr kópa."

A small area in the water grew even stiller then it was before. Any ripples that touched that small area bounced away as if encountering a solid object.

On that small area the outline of a person became visible. The image was dark and that combined with them only seeing by the light of the moon and stars made it difficult to make out any details.

Helena moved closer and moved her own hand over the image. "Lumos." A strong red glow appeared from her hand, illuminating the entire area around them. Helena hoped nobody was nearby, since in the darkness she was sure a person could see them from miles away now.

The moment the image became more visible Brom's eyes widened. "I know this woman!"

"Who is she?" "You do?" Eragon and Helena asked at the same time.

"Her name is Arya." Brom said, not taking his eyes off of the image. "She was the courier of Saphira's egg and the elven ambassador to the Varden."

"She's an elf?" Eragon exclaimed in surprise.

Brom nodded. "I was afraid she was killed, though her being captured could potentially be worse. If there is a chance to rescue her, we have to take it."

Helena looked at him in surprise. "Not that I don't fully support that idea, but wouldn't that be incredibly risky? I thought you were all about caution."

Brom chuckled ruefully. "Is that the impression I have been giving? Most who know me would disagree with that." His face turned serious. "She is an important person in many ways. Not only in terms of skill, but politically as well. If there is a chance we can save her we _must_ take it! Let's just hope she isn't being held captive in Urû'baen. There will be no hope of getting to her if that is the case. Eragon, if you get any more dreams about her, tell me immediately."

Eragon allowed the image to fade away. After a few moments Brom turned to him. "So," just from the way that first word was spoken, Helena knew Eragon was in for another lecture. Judging from Eragon's deer in a headlights expression he knew it too. "You decided to try and scry a person that for all you knew didn't exist? In other words, you tried to do something with magic that for all you knew wasn't possible? Do you have any idea how lucky you are! How often must I tell you, you never. . ."

 _And that's my cue to leave._

She stood up and moved over to her bedroll, it was getting late anyway. Eragon shot her a pleading look, silently begging her with his eyes to not leave him to face Brom's lecture alone. She gave him a cheerful wave and continued walking.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The next morning, as she did every morning, she continued her attempts to make the little maple leaf to fly.

"lauf reisa!" nothing.

"lauf reisa!" nothing.

"Move you overdue peace of compost junk!"

The leaf did fly that time, but Helena just slumped her shoulders tiredly.

Brom had explained that the traditional method for teaching new Riders magic was to give them a series of impossible tasks, hoping that the frustration would bring the magic to the surface. The problem with her was that every time she reached that level of frustration her own powers solved the problem for her instead.

The magic of the Ancient Language only worked by using one's own vitality as energy. She just kept reaching for her own special powers every time she tried to do that.

"I don't understand why you are so desperate to learn this." Eragon said. "I have seen some of the things you can do." Indeed, he had watched her train with her own magic before; no reason to stop practicing that which _did_ work after all. "What you can do is much more impressive than what I am capable off. If I tried to do some of the things you do it would kill me."

"If you try to use your magic to mimic what I do then you are missing the point," she said grumpily. Her repeated failures had put her in a bad mood. "Your power lies in precision. Not grand displays of power. Just apply a bit of force to their eyeballs, and they are out of the fight. Your powers are also impossible to dodge; they can only be countered. I am not saying that I would trade my own powers for a normal Rider's magic." Her magic was too much a part of her to ever willingly give it up, no matter the price. "But make no mistake. If I were to fight Brom in a magical duel right now, he could easily kill me."

"Helena is right," Brom called from where he was resting a few yards away. "Pay special attention to the part about using your magic in a more precise manner. Cunning and control are far more important in a magical duel then power. I have defeated many magicians who were more powerful then myself." He turned to Helena. "You must overcome this disability somehow, though I know not how. Your case is unique as far as I am aware. You will have to discover it on your own."

Helena nodded. _I will find a way, I have to._

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

All those mental combat sessions with Brom had given her an interesting idea. While she still hadn't actually won any of their mental battles – though she knew she was making progress – having her mind leave her body barely required any thought anymore.

When next she sparred with Brom, and she saw a chance to attack, she simultaneously reached out with her mind to Brom's. Engaging in mental combat required a lot of concentration and she hoped she would be able temporarily stun Brom enough to maybe give her an opening. Granted she also had to exert a lot of effort to do both the physical movements and the mental gymnastics simultaneously, but at this point she was far enough along that some of the movements were becoming automatic. She was also, admittedly, becoming somewhat desperate for any sort of advantage. Brom had been beating on her for almost a month now and she wanted to win at least once.

Sadly it was not to be.

She successfully entered his mind, getting a short glimpse of a memory where he was training Eragon like he was doing her, but he just ignored her intrusion, focusing only on their physical fight. Brom expertly parried her strike and used his superior size and strength to push her staff out of the way, coming in close for a punch to the belly. Like always he never pulled any punches with her so long as they didn't do permanent harm, and she was sent falling to the ground, gasping for breath.

Brom stood over her prone body, frowning, "That was dirty trick," a smirk appeared on his face, almost splitting it in two, "I am proud of you."

Not being able to speak yet, she settled for giving him a rude gesture.

Like always he ignored her animosity, "Now try not to get discouraged," he said seriously, "I am wise to that trick, but most people would indeed freeze if you start making a ruckus in their minds. Even to those who know what you are doing, as long as you are better at multitasking than your opponent this will be an advantage. Keep practicing this."

He took a few steps backwards and readied his mock wooden sword. "Mind, body, and magic. To use all three at once was the ideal many of the warriors among the Riders strived for. Your body is a lot weaker than most, so finding ways to augment your fighting, even close quarter fighting, with the other two is something to encourage."

He motioned for her to get up. "Again!" he bellowed.

Using her staff as a crutch she got back to her feet. After giving her a few moments to compose herself, he leaped towards her and the beating began anew.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Helena and Brom were practicing mental combat again, and for the first time Helena managed to slip past Brom's mental defenses – the times when she surprised him during their sparring sessions didn't count.

 _His target was finally beginning to open up to him. For the first time she talked to him about that man. How his easy confidence and devil may care attitude managing to charm the sheltered farm girl with talk of excitement and adventure. He wanted to hate her, but could he blame her for not seeing trough the façade when he himself didn't. . ._

" _Stop!_ " Brom's shout was both physical and mental.

Helena hastily withdrew from his mind.

Brom's face was covered with sweat and he was breathing heavily. "I think it is best if from now on you practice with Eragon. He needs to learn this too. These sessions are starting to take their toll on me. I am not as young as I used to be." Brom smiled ruefully.

She was grateful that he had never asked after any of the different memories he had seen in her mind, so she decided to return the courtesy.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Brom advanced and came in with a thrust.

Helena retreated while she spun her staff in front of her, knocking his blade aside.

Brom had made it clear that victory for her wasn't in landing hits on him, but to avoid getting hit herself, at least for now.  
Thus she spent a lot of time retreating backwards, moving all over the place, and just generally running away.

Brom had told her that was fine. "Pride has no place on a battlefield, girl! Your strength is your long range!" she could remember him yelling. And always he called her ' _girl',_ she found it infuriating… which was probably why he did it.

As Brom had reminded her repeatedly, she kept aware of her surroundings. Good thing too, since she would have bumped into a large boulder if she hadn't.  
She nimbly circled around the large rock. It was just large enough for her to be able to see Brom's head over it.  
They then did the age old routine of 'you try to circle left, I circle right. You circle right, I circle left.'

In the background she could hear the odd barking noise that past for laughter among dragons.

She ignored them.

Getting an idea, she tried to subtly plant one end of her staff firmly into the ground.  
'engorgio' she incanted in her mind.  
Keeping a firm grip on the staff, she was lifted of the ground and landed – somewhat clumsily she had to admit – on the higher ground.  
"Alright enough" Brom said. "from that position you would be free to throw some of those high destruction level spells my way if a were a normal opponent, attack my mind in relative safety if I am not, without me being able to do anything about it. And if I tried to climb up, you would have no problem keeping me at bay."

"You still aren't as good as I hoped you would be, but it well have to do." He continued to say. "For tomorrow we reach Dras-Leona."

* * *

disclaimer: the explanations with the potions was first thought of by Steelbadger's 'The Shadow of Angmar'.


	8. Trials of Dras-Leona

"Alright, when we arrive, Helena, I want you to not draw attention to yourself," Brom said

Helena quirked an eyebrow. "Any particular reason you are directing that bit advice at me?"

"You don't act like most of the women of the empire act. You got a bit of reputation back in Teirm. We can't afford that here. Just keep your head down."

Helena's smile was a sharp and humorless thing. "You want me to act demure, obedient and act like my greatest wish in life is marry a good husband so I can pop out babies?"

Brom returned the expression, "Essentially yes. Don't draw attention to yourself. Our lives are more important than your pride."

Helena, while clearly unhappy, grudgingly promised not to make too much of a scene.

"You judge to harshly." For the first time that Helena could remember, Eragon sounded somewhat angry with her. "All the woman of Carvahall were strong, not like you perhaps, but still strong. And there is nothing wrong with wanting to have a family."

Helena eyes widened when she realized that, yes, that had been unkind of her. She hated prejudice, so when she examined her own words from a different angle, she was appalled by them.

"I am sorry," she said, visibly contrite. "I just don't like being forced to act like something I am not."

"It's alright," Eragon tried to reassure her when he saw how bothered she.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The first sign that they were nearing Dras-Leona, beside the travelers on the road, wasn't the city itself, but rather the large black rock formation that stood a few miles away from the city. It was giant structure of inky black stone, four jagged pillars shot out from the giant structure, reaching towards the sky like crooked fingers, like a black hand missing its little finger.

"That is Helgrind." Brom said when it came into view "It is the reason why Dras-Leona was originally build. People are fascinated by it, even though it is an unhealthy and malevolent thing."

"It certainly looks ominous," Helena agreed.

"Yeah," Eragon agreed, "but how can a rock formation be unhealthy and malevolent? Is it magic?"

"Many theorize that it is indeed enchanted someway; though no magicians, including riders, have ever been able to prove it." Brom explained "As for it being malevolent and unhealthy? I said that due to the religions that it has inspired. Their priests drink blood and practice human sacrifice. They offer both their own flesh and that of the unwilling, believing that the more of your own body you give up, the less attached you are to the mortal world. They spend most of their time arguing over which of Helgrind's three peeks is the highest and whether the fourth and lowest one should be included in their worship. "

"That's horrible." Eragon whispered under his breath. Helena agreed, and both of them shuddered a little.

"How long has this been going on?" Helena asked.

"This particular version of it? It started about twenty years after the fall of the Riders. The riders used to routinely put a stop to whatever cults seemed to pop up around Helgrind. Something that occurred with an alarming frequency."

'There must definitely be some form of enchantment on this thing than. Something either powerful or subtle enough that nobody has ever been able to discover it,' Helena thought to herself.

'I don't like this,' Godric spoke to her. 'You are heading into what looks to be an enemy's lair. I won't be able to reach you fast enough if there is trouble.'

'We will be fine,' she assured him. 'I will be careful.'

she could tell that he wasn't reassured. Having shared most of her memories with him, she couldn't really blame him.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The believe that Helgrind was enchanted somehow only grew stronger with every step she took on her way towards the heart of the city. It wasn't really due to sensing any magic in the area, but rather the city itself.  
Dras-Leona's layout was… odd. There were two parts to the city, one part lay inside an ugly yellow wall of mud, the other part stood outside of it. That in and of itself wasn't strange – having an inner sanctum for everyone to retreat to in case of an attack was a common enough design.

What puzzled Helena was why the houses – and Helena used the term loosely – on the outer city were so tightly packed together. There was no outer city wall that they needed to fit in. There was nothing stopping them from just expanding outward so they would have more room. It was as if they were reluctant to move further away from the inner parts of the city. As if they thought they would be able to enjoy some of the wealth of those within the inner city by sheer proximity.

'That or. . .' Helena looked towards the cathedral that stood at the heart of the city, towering over everything else save Helgrind itself, which it was obviously attempting to imitate. 'This is somehow part of the same, or a similar enchantment, making people want to remain close to the cathedral.'

Beyond the strange architecture, Dras-Leona was one of the most miserable places she had ever seen. The city reeked of filth, human waste and despair, and as a dog animagus she felt uniquely qualified to know what despair smelled like. Everywhere you could hear people begging for coin, food, or simply even a warm blanked. They had already seen one poor urchin running away, a small piece of bread in its hand, from a small gang of even more urchins looking take it from him.

Eragon was looking around himself in horror. "I won't stay here."

"We won't stay long, and it gets better further in," Brom tried to reassure him. "First we need to find an inn and strategize. We must be very careful here; Dras-Leona is a dangerous place."

"Why would anybody willingly live here?" Helena almost whimpered.

"As bad as this is, there is strength in numbers. We may be able to survive out in the wilds, but these unfortunates wouldn't last long. Particularly not in these times. Beyond that, it is home to them, as terrible as it is."

Helena had trouble believing that. 'These people are absolutely miserable. If they had a chance at a better life they would surely take it, wouldn't they?'

Godric chose to reply to her thoughts. She usually allowed him to listen in on them. 'Even if they have never known anything else? When you lived with the Dursleys, when you were just a whelp, did you ever seriously consider running away?'

'It's not the same.' Helena denied, 'The Dursleys were never this bad. Sure, I never felt particularly welcome, but my live was never in danger there. I had food, shelter, and protection. Some of these people lack all three. Disease must run rampant in this place. I just can't imagine them wanting to stay here.' She had never seen poverty on this scale before.

Godric didn't reply. Helena knew that he too was puzzled by it, and was just giving the best explanation he could come up with. Whenever she asked herself a question, his voice would sometimes answer.

When she walked past a young girl who couldn't be older than six years and was missing her left forearm, she couldn't take it anymore and discreetly dropped a single Galleon in her lap. The girl looked at with wide eyes, but hid the coin in her sleeve before she had even fully registered what she had in her possession. 'Instincts born of living on the street,' Helena mused.

The girl, thankfully, quickly schooled her features and went back to looking despondently at the ground in front of her.

Helena was glad the girl didn't make a scene. if she had, she would have her gift taken from her by those stronger than her, and Helena would likely be hounded by every bagger in Dras-Leona hoping to receive a similar offering.

She was perfectly aware that in the grand scheme of things she hadn't changed anything for the people here, but she did feel a little better.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Brom led them to an inn called 'the Golden Globe', a cheap looking establishment that looked somewhat out of place in the wealthier parts of the city that surrounded it. Helena asked why they couldn't go find something better; she had the money for it after all.

Brom said something about wanting to keep a low profile, but Helena also suspected he just didn't want to accept her charity. He didn't allow her to pay for the drinks they were all ordering either.

Once they had ordered, Helena casted a Muffliato charm on the table so they could speak out in the open without being overheard. She had worried whether magicians could detect her magic like this, so she had tested it with Brom, asking him whether he could discover her spells. He said that while he could most certainly discover and break her spells, he would need to be actively searching for them. So long as there was nothing worth being suspicious over, she could get away with it. 'Meaning that it is no different than what I am used to,' she had thought.

"Beyond finding the Ra'zac we also need to check whether Arya is being held prisoner here. She will either be here, in Gil'ead, or in Urû`bean," Brom said

"Couldn't we simply look into the minds of anybody who might know something about either?" Eragon asked. "You once said to me that the number of people who can detect such an intrusion is small."

"That isn't a bad idea," Brom began, seeming pleased that Eragon suggested it. "But it isn't quite that simple. Yes, simply reading a person's surface thoughts is relatively safe, but that only works if they are, at that very moment, thinking about the information you want to know. One of the guards may be thinking about Arya – a captured elf is a something worth thinking about after all, but there is little reason for anybody to be thinking about the Seithr oil. If you reach too deep then your target will know something is up."

"We will have to split up if we want to look for both the captured elf and the oil," Helena spoke up, wrinkling her nose in disgust as she did so. "At least if we want to be out of this city as soon as possible, _which I do_." She put emphasis on the last three words. Just like Eragon, she really didn't want to stay here any longer than necessary. Not unless she could somehow help the people here by staying.

Brom nodded. "Indeed. I will investigate the dungeons. You two will look for the Seithr oil."

One of the barmaids brought them their drinks. Helena looked towards the bartender who was 'cleaning' a glass with a towel that looked to be even dirtier than the glass.

She gave her own glass a suspicious look, and pushed the drink away from her with the tip of her finger.

Brom look at her in amusement. "You know, you're actually a lot more posh than you portray yourself to be."

She looked at him in annoyance. "It is called proper hygiene, you country bumpkin." She startled and shot a panicked glance at Eragon. "No offence meant," she added hastily. She was still embarrassed about how she indirectly insulted his people earlier.

Eragon chuckled, his head resting lazily in his hand. "Don't worry about."

"It simply means that there is more beer for us," Brom said with grin as he moved her own glass towards himself.  
After Eragon's fourth refill and Brom's fifth she decided that she didn't want to continue to hang around them while she was the only sober one, so she excused herself and went to her room.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

Helena heard a familiar voice. She was in her room at the inn. It was still dark outside, the moon shone usually bright through her window. As she turned in her sleeping bag towards the noise, she noticed that it came from the mirror that hung on the wall. The mirror was her own, the room didn't have one included.

"Helena! Helena wake up!"

"Ron?" her mind felt fuzzy for some reason

"Yeah, where are you? And where have you been?"

"I am in another world. Another dimension I think."

He looked unimpressed. "I should be surprised, but I am not. When will you return?"

"I can't return. There is an evil king I need to defeat."

"Can't you leave well enough alone? Teddy misses you and McGonagall needs a new defense teacher?"

"I can't leave."

He looked sad. "Are you still not tired of adventure?"

"It's not like I want to be here."

"Don't you?" it sounded like an accusation. "We need you; you can't just leave."

"I can't leave," she said again, sounding more apologetic this time. "How are you contacting me?"

"You know the magic. you remember Sirius's mirror?"

"Does that even work across dimension?" Thinking was difficult. "And there is no such spell on this mirror." She tried to blink and noticed that she couldn't move her eyelids, despite being able to see.

"This… this isn't real. . ."

She forced her eyes open. She saw nothing. The room was dark. The curtains were drawn.

'Just a dream.' Her eyes closed again.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Rise and shine!" Helena said with an obnoxiously loud voice as she threw open the curtains of Brom and Eragon's room. A rat came out from under Brom's bed and scurried out of the chamber.

"Aaaaaaaahhhhhh," came the long-drawn-out groan from Eragon. He was sleeping on the floor in his usual sleeping back, unwilling to sleep with the bugs that he was convinced made the creaky beds here their home. Helena didn't blame him for she had done the same.

Brom threw his cushion at her. She caught it, and threw it back at him. "Come on, the sun is up and we have a whole city to search."

Eragon and Brom were obviously hung over from last night's drinking. Helena couldn't muster up any sympathy. They had been a pain to deal with yesterday before she had chosen to leave. Being the only sober person in a group conversation was not fun.

"How did you even get in," Brom grumbled.

"Magic," she answered cheekily. Alohomora for the win.

Brom mumbled something unintelligible, and then dragged Eragon down to the bar. 'To recover' he had said. Being somewhat curious, and having nothing better to do, she had trailed behind them.

Brom's 'miracle cure' as he called it involved drinking copious amounts of hot tea and ice water, followed by washing it all down with brandy.

"How can drinking more alcohol possibly help you get over a hangover?" Helena asked incredulously.

Brom snorted. "Oh, this isn't part of the cure. The tea is simply that bad and the brandy is simply that good." He shrugged. "No doubt I will regret it later in the day."

Eragon, with the cup of brandy only an inch from his lips, froze, and decided that having a bad taste in his mouth was preferable to prolonging his headache. He slowly put the cup back down.

Brom made to reach for Eragon's cup, but Helena snatched it before he could take it, and gifted it to a nearby patron with an obviously fake smile saying, "My uncle here has had enough already."

The man accepted her gift with a hearty laugh, and Brom grumbled something uncomplimentary about her.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

After Eragon was able to think clearly without getting a headache they went to search the city for the Seithr oil.

"We need to find out to which warehouse the oil has been taken. Most trade between Teirm and Dras-Leona happens by ships that travel along the Toark river. We should start looking by the harbor," Helena said as they walked towards the center of the city. The center was slightly elevated compared to the rest of Dras-Leona so it was an unpleasant walk upwards.

"Okay," Eragon said easily, and followed her lead.

They made their way towards the harbor without issue. Helena noted that despite Dras-Leona's less then stellar appearance, the harbor was surprising clean. Probably due to it being placed within the inner city and its small size.  
The harbor was built at the end of an extension of Leona lake that ran all the way through the inner parts of the city. Helena was surprised that the water was so clean, having expected that the people of Dras-Leona would use it as a convenient way to dispose of waste.

When she mentioned this fact to one of the merchants, he told her that Marcus Tábor – ruler of the city – forbade anyone outside the inner walls from doing this. He also told her that the punishment for being caught doing it anyway often involved the perpetrator being sold as a slave.

And hadn't that been a doozy to learn.

"Is there something wrong with that man? He looks different," Helena had asked to one of dockworkers. He was the one who had been giving directing to the other workers, so she had assumed he was important, and thus, had a higher chance of knowing where to find the oil. That or he could point them in the right direction. Which he had already done by that point actually, but Helena got curious.

The man that she had been asking for had been dressed differently, and by differently she meant barely dressed at all, nothing but a loincloth and a bunch of rags. He also had a dull hopeless look in his eyes that Helena found disturbing to look at.

"Ah. . ." the dockworker – he had introduced himself as Rulf – looked uncomfortable. "He is a slave."

"What!" Had Come Eragon's shocked yell, "I thought that was illegal."

"It is. . . technically. The king doesn't really enforce the ban so it really depends on the local lord whether the practice is allowed or not."

"And you are okay with this?" Helena had asked incredulously.

"Bah! Course not. aint right to that to a man, but aint up to me." High on emotion the man's rural accent grew stronger. "I aint the one giv'n the orders. This place is owned by the Tábor family. Not stupid enough to argue with them. I'll be libel to end up mi 'self like that." Rulf took a deep breath to calm himself. "Now if you will excuse me, I got work to do." He turned his back to them.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

From there they made their way to the warehouse to which the oil was taken.  
A small bribe was enough to get the workers to tell them that the oil was taken from there to the palace.

"This might be a problem. . ." Helena said, her brow furrowed.

"Should we wait for Brom? He seems to have more experience with this," Eragon suggested.

"Maybe," Helena mumbled reluctantly, she wanted to at least try before giving up. "Let's go to the palace, and if we can't think of anything, we can still go back," she suggested.

The palace wasn't difficult to find. It towered over every other building except for the cathedral. The walkway towards it had soldiers stationed every four feet, watching all passersby impassively. Helena guessed that the only reason for them – besides the ones at the door – was simply to intimidate everyone. It was working too, judging by how nervous Eragon seemed.

Helena gave him a small nudge with her elbow and whispered, "Don't worry, just pretend that you are supposed to be here."

"Be here for what exactly?" he whispered back. "We still haven't decided on anything."

She looked around, "There." She surreptitiously pointed towards a relatively small building that stood about eighty yards behind and slightly to the right of the palace. It was partly hidden behind it and some trees, as if they would very much like visitors to not notice that it was there. "We can start there. It looks like a place where people would store their stuff. We can say that we suspect that one of the crates that were brought here from the warehouse might have been mixed up, and we want to resolve the problem before anyone finds out."

Once they drew closer however, they noticed that the building wasn't a storage building, but the servants' quarters.

"This can work too," Helena said optimistically, "They probably know all that goes on in the palace and it will be less of a disaster if we offend someone. As long as we don't act too suspicious we should be fine."

"Okay, so how do that?" Eragon asked.

'useless,' Godric grumbled in her head. He had been keeping an eye on her the entire day so far. Even if he couldn't be there to help, he wanted to be kept informed. Helena also suspected he simply wanted to keep reassure himself that she wasn't in trouble. 'The boy can't think for himself it seems.'

Helena frowned, not liking how harsh Godric was with Eragon.

"Well. . . how do you think we should do this." Helena tried to get Eragon to help think of a plan. Eragon wasn't stupid. Slightly inexperienced with the whole adventuring thing, but he would learn.

"Hmm," his faces took on a thoughtful look, "What if we pretend to be bards, or some other kinds of entertainers? People rarely turn those away."

"How good of a storyteller are you?" Helena asked.

"Brom would be better, but I do remember a few tales. Not sure it will be enough though. Do you have anything you can do?"

"I know a few stories, but I have rarely told one myself – wait." She remembered something. "I have a flute in my bag." It was the same flute that she received from Hagrid in her first year actually. "Two years ago, I enchanted it so that all who listen to it will be enraptured by it." It was a project Flitwick had assigned her in charms and he had been pleased by the result. "It is no substitute for true skill, and anyone with any kind of mental self-awareness will know that something is up. My potential audience will also have problems explaining just why my playing was any good afterwards, but it is the best I can think off." She made a soft humming noise, "If I do that, then I might be able to simultaneously try to read the surface thoughts of those around me at the same time."

"I tell stories and you give musical accompaniment." Eragon nodded, smiling. "What could possibly go wrong."

Helena facepalmed.

xxxxxxxxxx

Once the servants learned why they were there they eagerly led them to their lunch room. It was early afternoon and a lot of them – not all, because there were always some on duty – had gathered there to unwind for a bit, or to enjoy the rest of the day before bed if they didn't have an evening shift.

"Thus Gildintor lay dead on those beloved white plains of his herd. His last breath spend, his strength gone, Gildintor would never run nor fight no again." Helena blew a bid slower on her flute, trying to make a slow mourning melody; just because it was enchanted was no excuse not to make an effort. "But then!" Eragon made a wide dramatic gesture with his hands.

'He is surprisingly good at this,' Helena thought. He was a bid nervous at the beginning, being the center of attention, but after his first successful story he started to gain confidence.  
He was a bit too good actually, everyone was so enraptured in the story and her own music that they didn't let their minds wander. Helena was learning nothing by 'listening in' on their thoughts.

She decided to speed up her playing again; guessing that something more energetic was going to be needed.

"The snows they fell, the winds they howled, and Palancar's soldiers grew still with unease. In the distance beyond a hill they could not see, a different storm began. Morleon, his old friend, felt his old rival's soul pas beyond the void. Shamed he was, for Gildintor fought, odd's so hopeless, victory beyond reach, yet honor and pride preserved. Morlean lead his herd down toward that field of blood and snow, and their hooves thundered." Helena played as fast a melody as she could. "Palancar's soldiers heard the rumble and with Gildintor's deed's still fresh on their soul. Courage left them and they surrendered their goal. Fled they did, Palancar's hopes undone. Morleon arrived then at Gildintor's remains, wept he did despite his new gains. Gildintor's herd, they now followed him, yet victory hollow, he still felt like he lost to his kin." Eragon ended solemnly and then climbed down from the table on which he was standing.

The crowed clapped, yelled, and banged their first on the wooden tables in approval. Eragon's face grew red with embarrassment and sporting a silly grin on his face.

One of the older servants walked up to them. "Not bad you two," he said smiling. "I have seen better, but definitely not bad. My name is Bert. Why don't you join us as at the table for dinner, it's the least we can do?" Considering that they still didn't know where the Seithr oil was, they eagerly excepted the excuse to spend more time talking with the servants. Besides, they were starting to get hungry.

They followed Bert to one of the long wooden tables, and sat were he motioned them to sit.

"The food isn't terrible. Marcus may not be nicest of people, but he knows not to mess with the people responsible for his comforts. Don't shit were you eat and all that," Bert said with a good-natured chuckle.

"We travel a lot and haven't been in Dras-Leona long." Helena began. "I know that Marcus Tabor is the guy running the city, but not much else."

"Man does whatever he wants, cuz he can get away with whatever he wants." A middle-aged blond girl in black servants clothing with a white apron said. "With the exception of the capital, the king tends to be very hands off when it comes to ruling the kingdom, relying mostly on his nobles. As long as taxes come in, nobody speaks ill of the king and don't cause any rebellions they can do whatever they want. Ruling their small pieces of the kingdom almost as if they are petty kings themselves."

"You know," the man sitting on Helena's left whispered to her. "If you don't stop her she will never ever stop talking."

"I don't mind," she whispered back. Knowing more on of a common man's – or woman's in this case – perspective on the empire seemed like something useful to know.

"Marcus though," the girl shook her head. "His family was the first to swear fealty to Galbatorix, even before he won the war. He has always favored them because of that, giving them more leeway than any other of his vassals." She grinned. "Marcus's though has gone a bit too far this time, heard the king himself is coming to teach him a lesson."

"What?" Eragon exclaimed, wide eyed. Helena didn't speak up, but she too was worried.

"I know right!" The servant went on with excitement, thankfully not noticing the dread on their faces. "The king will be in Dras-Leona within a week. To teach Marcus a lesson in humility." She repeated.

'This is bad,' Helena thought to herself. She didn't want to face Galbatorix until she was in full control of her new powers.

"What did he do?" Eragon asked.

"Don't rightly know for sure, but I heard he has been trying to recruit some magic users of his own. Trying to establish his own black hand, or something." She shrugged. "Magic is one of those things I heard that the king takes very seriously, you know." She looked wistfully out of one of the windows. "What I wouldn't give to be a fly on the wall to see Marcus groveling in front of Galbatorix."

"Is it safe for you to talk like that?" Eragon asked, concerned. "He is your boss after all."

"Nah he's a bastard, but at least he knows it. Doesn't bother him when people call him what he is; just so long as he is obeyed. Besides nobody here is going to tell on me." She grinned.

"So. . ." Helena said hesitantly. "what do you guys do exactly."

The woman's – she should probably ask her name at some point – smile widened and every other person at the table, besides Helena and Eragon, groaned.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The blond girl – they learned her name was Isolde – was without a doubt the biggest gossip that Helena had ever met.

Eragon and Helena learned more about the private lives off the palaces inhabits than they needed, or indeed wanted, to know.

While Isolde rambled on, Helena tried to make sure that she didn't talk too long about a single subject. She had no idea how to steer the conversation towards the crates of Seithr oil without it being obvious so she just tried for quantity in information rather than quality.

The information they wanted didn't come from Isolde however.

"Not too much for me to do tomorrow afternoon," Helena overheard Bert saying to another of his coworkers. "Just need to prepare provisions for those poor sods heading to Helgrind."

"Why would you need provisions for a trip to Helgrind?" Helena injected herself into their conversation. Isolde looked a little put out by her no longer paying attention to her description of earl Falks various mistresses. "Helgrind can't be much more than an hour's walk from the city."

"Good question, and I don't know. They never return," Bert shrugged.

"Doesn't that just mean that they traveled further?" Eragon asked. "That seems to be the most likely explanation."

Bert shook his head. "A young boy named Sami got curious and followed them once. He never came back either. Besides, they don't let slaves wander that far on their own. Everyone knows that they would just run away." Bert looked down towards his empty food plate. "Can't say I blame 'em. Nah, they are probably sacrificed by the priests there, or something. The crates they carry is probably an extra offering of some sort."

"Crates?" Helena prodded, careful to not let it show how interested she was. She made sure to read the man's surface thoughts; this might be it.

"Yea, couple of boxes. Don't know what's in them. Probably gold or something." He shrugged again.

In his mind Helena saw a picture of the crates that matched the description that they had gotten back at the harbor.

'Bingo.' Helena stood up. "We had best be going. It is starting to get late."

While the others at the table all said their goodbyes Helena mentally contacted Eragon. 'I have what we need. Time to leave.'

A big smirk appeared on his face at their success, and he made to follow after her.

Right after they left the servant's quarters area they found Brom chatting amiably with a group of finely dressed young children. The moment his eyes caught them he politely extricated himself from the disappointed group of youngsters and joined them.

"Please tell me that you didn't do something stupid," He begged in quiet voice. The carefree smile on his face stood in contrast with his words.

"We didn't. We—" Brom cut Eragon off.

"Not here. Wait until we are back in our room."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Alright, we can talk here," Brom said once they arrived in their dusty old room and after closing the door shut behind them.

"We found were the Ra'zac are," Eragon began, almost trembling with excitement.

"You did?" Brom said with surprise.

Eragon nodded. "The Seiter oil gets delivered to Helgrind. That must be where they live."

Brom looked somewhat off-balanced by their success "Alright, tell me everything that happened."

"We first went to the harbor. There we found out to which warehouse the oil was sent. Then from there we discovered it was sent to the palace, then we got ourselves invited to the servants' quarters by pretending to be traveling bards. They told us were the oil went from there."

"I see," Brom said, looking torn between being angry and proud. "I wish you would have left that up to me, I have more experience when it comes to espionage. Still, you succeeded without being caught, so no harm done."

"You should also know that Galbatorix will be in Dras-Leona within a week," Helena said.

Brom paled a little, "The king hasn't left Urû'baen in over ten years."

"Do you think he knows off us?" Eragon asked.

"Off you and Saphira? Definitely. Helena and Godric? Maybe. let's hope he doesn't, but even if he does, he doesn't know our location. If he did we would already be within his grasp. However, it does mean that whatever we will do about the Ra'zac will have to be done soon. We don't want to be anywhere within twenty leagues of Galbatorix."

"I want to get the Ra'zac," Eragon said, his fists tightening, his eyebrows were drown together and his eyes were focused in a heated glare. Helena decided she didn't like that look on him. "but not if it means fighting the king. He could tear me to pieces."

Brom looked pleased by that admittance. "Very good, you are learning caution. And you are right; you wouldn't stand a chance against Galbatorix, neither of you would. Now please tell me world for word what the servants told you."

Eragon repeated the relevant conversation they had with the servant's word for word as requested.

Brom looked at Helena. "Do you have anything to add."

She shook her head. "No, that was everything."

Brom stroked his beard. "So the Ra'zac are at Helgrind. Either at the bottom and protected by a thick stone door or higher up where only their flying mounts or dragons can reach. Top or bottom, the entrance will no doubt be disguised."

"If Saphira or Godric go flying near Helgrind the Ra'zac are sure to see us, not to mention all of Dras-Leona." Eragon said.

"Not necessarily," Helena disagreed. "During the night, we could fly without being seen. Preferably during a cloudy night, or a new moon." They could always leave and come back later if no such night presented itself; so long as their location remained a secret they were in no immediate danger.

"Yes, but only a fool would tangle with the Ra'zac at night." Brom shot down the idea. "The Ra'zac are night time predators, they will be twice as dangerous then."

Eragon frowned. "Couldn't we take the place of the slaves? The full moon isn't that far off. It would give us the perfect opportunity to get close to the Ra'zac."

Brom was stroking his beard again, it seemed like his default 'Thinking Mode' "That's chancy at best. If the slaves are killed from a distance, we'll be in trouble. We can't harm the Ra'zac if they aren't in sight."

'Why would you need to impersonate the slaves at all,' Godric pointed out to her. 'It is needlessly risky. You know when they might appear. Simply hide away near Helgrind, wait until they show themselves, and then strike.'

Helena repeated Godric's suggestion. "Though I am loathed to allow the slaves to get killed," she added afterwards, making a disgusted face.

"It is an idea worth considering," Brom said. "I know it seems heartless, but you and Eragon are more important than any slave – nay any other person."

Meanwhile Eragon had that distant look in his eyes that indicated he was communicating with Saphira. "It wouldn't work. Saphira has looked at Helgrind's surroundings–– from a far distance she assures me," he added quickly due to Brom's thunderous expression. "It's a flat open rocky terrain. There are no places to hide."

"That leaves us with impersonating the slaves," Brom said, clearly unhappy with the situation. "and without the immediate support of the dragons. It's risky, but I can't think of anything better."

"I am willing to take the chance," Eragon declared, an eager glint in his eyes.

"I will take the place of the second slave," Brom said. Helena opened her mouth to object. "Don't," Brom cut her off with a raised hand before she could begin. "I refuse to risk the both of you. Eragon will go since it is his revenge, and I will go since I have experience and am more expendable."

Helena wanted to argue, but found it hard to come up with any arguments. Godric seemed pleased though.

"We will have to move quickly. With the king coming, there isn't much time," Brom said. "Tomorrow I will go to the palace to figure out how to replace the slaves. I know you two did well today, but I would rather not take chances. There are no doubt spies and courtiers in the palace that know about the Ra'zac."

"Wait, what about the elf?" Helena said. "Did you find her?"

"No," Brom growled. "She is either in Urû'baen or Gil'ead. It wasn't that hard to find out actually. I still had enough time to go to the docks, the warehouse that you visited, and go to the palace. I had feared you would be found out and that I would need to rescue you."

"One man taking on the garrison of Dras-Leona by himself," Helena smiled.

"I've survived worse odds," Brom smirked at her. "I did, ehm, acquire a nice new sword from somewhere. With you having my staff and Eragon my sword I needed a new weapon." He turned to Eragon, his expression serious. "Rejoice Eragon, you may soon have your revenge. It is time for you to consider what you are going to afterwards."

"Yes, yes I know," he said, stubbornly not meeting anyone's eyes.

"I just want you to be prepared," Brom said in a soothing voice. "Anyway, we don't have anything left to do today. We could go to sleep, though it is still a bit early."

"I am really not tired," Eragon said

"I am sure I got a pack of cards somewhere in my bag," Helena offered. A normal muggle pack even, the old magical set Ginny had given her had an annoying queen of diamonds that kept tattling what her hand was. She was almost sure that that had been a prank.

"I am up for it. So long as we don't make it too late," Brom shrugged.

Eragon agreed as well, so they moved themselves to the bar downstairs to waste the last few hours of the day away.

Fortunately, Eragon was one of those rare few people that learn from the pain of hangover so he was easier to deal with this time.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

Helena woke up in her room to find a small note that was obviously slid under the door.  
It read:

 _Helena,_

 _I expect to be busy until late tonight. You and Eragon are free to enjoy and explore the city if you wish, but keep a low profile! And stay together!_

 _Brom._

 _Ps. Avoid the palace and keep your guard up. Keep in mind that short of Urû'baen, the king's influence is strongest in Dras-Leona. Keep your staff close._

Helena burned the note after reading it carefully – there was nothing specific in it, but it clearly marked them as troublemakers – and went over to knock on Eragon's room.

"Are you awake yet?" she spoke loudly.

"Yea, the door is unlocked, and I am decent," came Eragon's voice.

She came in and found that Brom had written a similar message on the wall for Eragon, also leaving Eragon a bid of pocket money for the day under the bed.

Eragon moved to wipe the message from the wall. "Do you have anything particular you want to do today?"

Helena shrugged, "Not especially no." She hated this city, and didn't feel the inclination to experience more of it.

Eragon sighed. "Me neither. I suppose we could look around the markets and shops for a while. I just want to stay away from some of the poorer districts. The sight of it is depressing."

Helena winced remembering the walk through the slums two days ago. "Agreed." Helena could understand not wanting to be exposed to such misery. She felt a somewhat guilty for thinking that, a part her judging herself a coward for it. Like closing your eyes to the pain of others – out of sight out of mind – but it wasn't like she could actually do anything about.

They spent the afternoon looking through the various shops and stalls of Dras-Leona, not looking for anything in particular, mostly just to pass the time.

Helena did find out what Galbatrix looked like trough an interesting portrait of his coronation. She had to admit, he looked very regal in the picture, with his sharp aristocratic face and severe expression. His hair was as black as her own, his protruding eyes were of a brown yellowy color. The cape he wore over his fine black clothes was of a shining silver that reminded her of the steel of a blade. The crown he wore was of the same metallic silver as his cape. When she commented on it, the shopkeeper told her it was rumored to be some way of honoring his first dragon that had been killed by Urgals, whom was of that same color.

When they became hungry they bought a simple loaf of bread along with some cheese and honey. They ate it sitting at a small public table that looked to be slightly cleaner than most.

"So what do you plan to do?" Eragon asked her once they were done eating.

"I suppose we will continue to wander aimlessly for the rest of the day," Helena said with a poor attempt at amusement. Dras-Leona didn't really have that many interesting things to see. The city had a history of being raised and rebuild several times, and as a result, didn't have many landmarks. The only places that were worth looking at were places she didn't feel comfortable going – mostly the palace or the cathedral.

"I meant once we are done with the Ra'zac." Eragon spoke softly, after confirming that nobody was near enough to listen in on them. "You're traveling with us, but you never said for how long you will stay with us, or what your overall plans are," Eragon clarified.

Helena considered her response. Brom had told her he didn't want her influencing his decisions on what to do himself, so she had to be careful.

"I want to find out how I got here, and do whatever seems right to me along the way," she said carefully.

"Are you going to join the Varden?" he asked bluntly.

 _Should have known being evasive wouldn't work,_ Helena thought wryly. Eragon had always been very persistent with his questions. When she or Bron informed him they didn't want to tell him something he accepted it, albeit reluctantly, but he would otherwise keep going until his curiosity was satisfied.

She changed tactics. "What would you do if I said I wouldn't?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

The question seemed to trouble him, and he considered it for a full minute before giving his answer.

"I. . . I would call you a liar." He finally said hesitantly, but she could not detect any uncertainty.

Helena let out something that was part snort and part chuckle at the unexpected isightfull answer. "What makes you say that."

"Brom, likes you. He does!" he said insistently after noting her incredulous expression. "He may give you grief sometimes, but he clearly seems to trust you to some extent." Truthfully, she agreed with him; it was just too much fun to keep complaining and throwing barbs at each other.

"Anyway," he continued. "Beyond that. You are helping me in going after the Ra'zac – known servants of the king, without them ever having antagonized you. That means you aren't afraid of making an enemy of him. "

She waved her hand to stop him from saying anything more. "All right, you got me," she admitted; she clearly wasn't fooling anyone. "I am going to oppose Galbatorix – for several reasons. Though I am still not sure if I want to fully join the Varden or not." She didn't want to be beholden to a group that she knew so little about. That Galbatorix was evil didn't automatically make all those who oppose him saints.

"I hope you'll keep traveling with us after we are done here," he said awkwardly. "We should stick together."

Eragon had gotten more comfortable in her presence in the month she'd know him. His obvious infatuation had cooled down slightly, becoming more confident in her presence, but he was clearly still interested.

Helena really didn't know what to do about it. Eragon was nice and handsome enough, but he was younger than she was – barmy, with her being technically an adult and Eragon technically a minor, a relation between them could almost be considered illegal – but it was more than just physical age. Helena experiences made her feel a lot older than Eragon. Yes, they were both immortal so the difference would eventually become minimal – if they didn't get killed in the coming years – but that didn't help her now.

"You shouldn't worry," she tried to reassure him. "I am probably going to help you and Brom save this Arya next, and I expect to still be around afterwards." Brom would eventually take her to the Varden, and she at least wanted to meet them. Helping to save this Arya – besides being the right thing to do – would probably go a long way into making a good impression on them.

Eragon would, of course, follow Brom. Those two were so close she could almost think they were family.

xxxxxxxxxx

It was later in the day, when they heard some auctioneer rattle of list of prices.

This was not at all a rare thing. Merchants whose goods were popular often let prospective buyers bid on them to increase profits. Not to mention the increased attention – thus publicity – it could gather them. She had seen the same thing in Tierm on occasion.

What was odd though was that this was happening away from the busiest areas where most of the shops where located.

Helena and Eragon had grown tired of the mess of people, and had decided to just take a walk through the quieter less densely populated parts of the city. They were moving fairly close to the palace district actually. Neither was willing to go closer than this, considering Brom's warning.

Following the sound, they arrived at a small crowded open square with a raised wooden platform. Arrayed before the platform stood a richly dressed crowed. They were all talking loudly among themselves, obviously excited about something.

The large number of guards that seemed be present convinced them to watch from a safe distance to discover what was going on, before coming any closer.

On the raised platform stood a man that was even more finely dressed than the august group he was addressing; 'Finely dressed' being somewhat subjective. Helena thought the man was trying way too hard to look wealthy and just looked ridiculous, almost like a Christmas tree.

"And for our fourth item we have a young local male from the grey district. He was caught poaching south of our fair city just four days ago, unable to pay the fine," the man said while making a large beckoning gesture to a small house to the left.

Two stoic looking guards came out of the building, dragging a struggling, handcuffed, angry looking teen between themselves.

Helena had a sick feeling that she knew what this was.

"As you can see he has plenty of energy, and is in excellent condition. Sadly, illiterate, but he of course speaks the civil tongue. Might need some discipline first, but then he could make for a worker. Or perhaps a shield bearer? If you trust him for that sort of work. Bidding starts at fifty silver."

 _Fifty silver,_ Helena thought numbly. _That is less then what it took for me to stay at that inn back in Teirm for a week._

She looked towards Eragon to see how he was handling seeing this, and found him raising his hand toward the platform, an enraged look on his face.

Assuming that he was planning to do some magic of some sort, she grabbed his hand and brought it back down. "He'd never get away, we can't help them now," she spoke softly.

He looked pained. "I know." He gritted his teeth and returned to watch to proceedings in silence.

Despite of her own warning to Eragon, when a girl who couldn't be older than eight was dragged unto the podium, yelling for her mother all the while, it was Eragon who had remind her that they couldn't do anything.

Her vision turned red, all her reasons for not interfering now seemed unimportant. In fact, she was unable to form any rational thoughts at all. It was like an insanity that came from the deepest parts of her being. Her blood boiled, her vision turned blurry, and her magic was reaching out, intending to tear flesh from bone.

She felt herself being shaken, and for the first time she felt herself thinking in the form of words rather than urges. Her rage turned cold, but didn't lessen. _Do we have a volunteer?_

She turned, intending blast whomever was interfering into bloody chunks of meat, and found a vaguely familiar, brown haired boy's hands on her shoulder.

He flinched when he made eye contact with her.

 _Eragon…. His name is Eragon, he… he is a fiend…,_ she thought as reason began to return.

"I… I need to get away from here," she said with a tremble in her voice.

Eragon nodded and together they walked away, not paying any attention to where they were going.

After five minutes Eragon broke the silence. "I don't think I have any more doubts about wanting to fight the empire," he said softly.

Helena nodded, but she wasn't really paying attention to him. She was still thinking about what had come over her.

It was natural to be angry, enraged even, about what they saw, but that. . . that had been something more.

 _It was like being under the corrupting influence of dark magic,_ she realized.

Only once had she ever lost control like that before, and it had been when she had successfully used the Crusiatus Curse on Belatrix after she had killed Sirius.

She had wondered about this. Her magic had mutated to make intent and will more important in her spellcasting, but there was one branch of magic that already relied so heavily on intent, even before her transformation.

Intent always helps of course, but it isn't the most important – nor is it generally advisable to rely on it too much. Things like: transfiguration, charms, healing magic, divination are more dependent on things like: knowledge, understanding, experience, focus, mental flexibility, intuition, all to varying degrees of importance.

Only one– no, technically two branches of magic focuses on intent above any other attribute.

Dark Magic and Light Magic

It had been a disturbing realization after her encounter with Belatrix, just how easy Dark magic came to her. She had been in hysterics when she asked Dumbledore just why it could come so easily to her. After all, hadn't she easily mastered the Patronus Charm; one of the most Light types of spells there was? Shouldn't its opposite be inversely difficult?

Dumbledore had looked sternly at her, his usual eye twinkle absent, and told her it didn't work like that. Light and Darkness were two sides of the same coin; if you had great success with one, it is likely you had great potential with the other. Both required the caster to be very passionate about whatever they were trying to do.

Dark magic relied on channeling your negative emotions: anger, hate, fear, a desire to remove the cause of your ire, into your magic.  
The main problem with dark magic was that it came with a positive feedback loop. It takes all the emotion you put into it, and returns it to you ten-fold. The more you use it, the easier it becomes. It was like a blade without a hilt.

She had wondered how the branch of magic that relied the most on intent would respond to a transformation that reinforces the importance of intent. Now she had her answer. Apparently it is now even easier for one's negativity to start corrupting ones magic. This time it had started before she had properly casted any spells. She hadn't even been aware of what she was doing this time.

'Dear one?' she heard Godric's concerned voice.

'I am alright,' She tried to reassure him. She would just need to keep a more careful watch over her emotions from now.

'I felt something… something bad from you, more than simple anger,' he continued, sounding disturbed.

'I am alright now,' she repeated. She felt him retreat from her mind, apparently, if not satisfied, appeased for now. He would probably bring it up again later.

Due to the somber mood they were both in, Eragon and Helena had kept their gaze towards the ground and didn't notice that they had approached the great cathedral of Dras-Leona.

"Damnation," Eragon whispered. Clearly in awe.

Helena, despite having seen many fantastic things in her live, was also impressed. Mostly by the beautiful drawings of fantastical beasts on the wall, some of whom she recognized. The size of the building was impressive, but she had seen larger.

She had wondered whether some of the magical beasts that she knew also existed in this world. These paintings pointed towards that being more likely.

Eragon made his way up the steps that led to the giant iron door that led into the cathedral, and studied the words that were inlaid there in what seemed to be pure silver. "I think this translates too: 'May thee who enter here understand thine impermanence and forget thine attachments to that which is beloved.'"

Helena walked up to stand next to him and looked at the words curiously; they were written in the Ancient Language and she could make heads nor tails of it; she was impressed that Eragon could. "From what I know of the religions back home. . . and I admit to be far from an expert on the subject. . . that isn't a uncommon message. Telling people that there exists some power that makes you seem insignificant by comparison, and that you should be humbled. Though this is notably lacking in mentioning any higher powers. Also, a lot more depressing."

Eragon hesitantly pushed against the door.

The door opened almost too easily, with almost no resistance, as if the cathedral was inviting them in.

"Let's go inside," Eragon said, and without waiting for her reply he stepped inside.

Helena hurried after him. "Are you sure this is smart?" she whispered harshly while looking around herself.

The room – though calling it a room didn't really do it justice – reminded her vaguely of inner parts of the church that she visited in primary school.

The ceiling was very high and made her feel somewhat insignificant – which she guessed was the intended effect. Stained-glass windows covered a large part of the walls, depicting gruesome scenes of anger, hate, suffering and remorse. _Some kind of warning perhaps,_ she mused.

"Huh?" Eragon looked to her. "I just want take a quick look," he said distractedly, and approached the alter at the back of the room where she guessed priests would hold sermons.

He knelt in front of the alter and bowed his head.

Helena couldn't deny that – despite the grim images that covered the wall – this place had a very solemn feel to it that made it appropriate for contemplation and prayer.

Suddenly Helena was curious if Eragon was actually religious, and if so, what he believed in. She had never asked before. She herself, like most wizards and witches, was agnostic atheist, but she knew that most humans tended to believe to some extent – especially in premodern societies.

She knew there were some witches and wizards who worshiped magic itself, but she had never taken a close look at that believe.

Before she could question Eragon on the topic she heard soft footsteps from behind her.

She turned to find two hooded figures in black cloaks. Behind their hoods she could barely make out a pair of black lidless eyes, and features that looked vaguely avian.

They hissed something to each other and Helena had a suspicion that if she was still a parselmouth she might have been able to understand them. Sadly, she had lost the ability after she lost the Horcrux in her scar.

From a description that Brom had given her she recognized these two as the Ra'zac. "Eragon!," she yelled.

He startled and looked first to her, and then to where she was looking. When his eyes fell Ra'zac he let out a cry of hate and anger. In three seconds he had grabbed the short bow from his hips and shot an arrow at them.

Guessing the direction that they would dodge in, she raised her hand and whispered harshly under her breath 'Confringo!'.

She had toyed with the idea of saying words in the Ancient Language while thinking her Latin incantations in her head, but she had no success with it. Turns out that thinking one thing, while simultaneously saying something else was really hard. She would have to settle for incanting softly, or not at all. At least if she wanted to keep her strange magic a secret.

A burning red light raced from her hand towards one of the two hooded figures. They moved faster than she had expected, but she had guessed correctly, and her spell was poised to hit her target.

To Helena's dismay however, her spell sizzled out a short distance before hitting the hooded figure.

 _Wards,_ Helena thought grimly. She had been afraid of this. She would have to be more creative if she wanted to harm them using magic. That or. . . she tried to reach out to the minds of the Ra'zac, but to her surprise couldn't find anything. Even animals had some mental presence!

Before she could try something new, a line of soldiers began to pour into the cathedral through the iron door. They had bows in hand, arrows already knocked. She could make out an even larger number of soldiers outside the doorway, forming a line, waiting to get in.

She grabbed Eragon's arm and pulled him towards a side corridor. He realized that they couldn't fight just as well as she did, and followed easily.

When they encountered a closed door, Helena waved her hand, and blasted the door of its hinges, not slowing their run.

They raced through several chambers, leaving indignant priests and servants shouting profanities behind them. They quickly arrived at a garden surrounded by a tall brick wall.  
She could probably blast this wall apart as well, but the shrapnel could be dangerous and it wouldn't help them shake of their pursuers.

Instead she pointed the palm of her hand at a large flagstone saying, "Spongify." Another red light raced from her hand, hitting the stone, and temporarily making its surface rubbery. _I would make an amazing professional duelist back home,_ she thought absently, _nobody would be able to identify my spells by their color anymore._

"Jump off that stone, and over the wall," she said quickly. "Trust me," she added when she noticed his skeptical look. With a running start she jumped of the spongifyed stone, as if it was a springboard, and was sent flying over the wall.

When her upward momentum ran out she pointed her hands downwards at an angle, and incanted, "Molliare!" to make sure she didn't break any bones when she landed on her behind.

Eragon came flying over the wall a few seconds later. He yelled in panic when he fell down, arms flailing wildly trying to grab onto something.

She didn't blame him. If she didn't know the ground was now as soft as a sponge, she would have panicked as well.  
Eragon landed even more clumsily then her, with his entire body positioned horizontally – luckily he didn't land on top of her. Thanks to her Cushioning Charm he actually fell a bit through the ground, making a body shaped hole in the ground like in one those cartoon shows that Dudley used to watch.

Pausing only for a moment to check whether he was okay, she jumped back to her feet, and started running, screaming: "Come hurry!" over her shoulders. Eragon was a faster runner then her; he would be able to catch up.

For what seemed like hours, but was in reality no more than a dozen minutes, they sprinted as fast as they could.

While running at full speed was physically taxing, it didn't require much mental focus, so she was able to contact Godric. 'We have been discovered! Stay as close to the city as you can, if things go badly we may need your help.'

'I will be ready. Get out of there as quickly as you can.'

'Can you contact Brom?'

'Tell Eragon to ask Saphira. She is more familiar with his mind.' It was true that Godric only rarely talked to anyone except her, the only exception seemed to be Saphira, and even that had lessened recently.

She reached out with her mind to Eragon. She didn't normally communicate with him like this – especially when he was right next to her – but there was no point in wasting precious breath.

'Can you get Saphira to warn Brom? And tell her to prepare to help bail us out while you are at it.'

Wordlessly she felt his agreement. A few seconds later. . . 'Brom will meet us at the Inn.'

When they arrived, they quickly packed Brom and Eragon's belongings – Helena always carried everything on her person – and saddled the horses.

They waited anxiously on the street for Brom. Keeping a nervous eye on all intersections, both of them expecting the full garrison of Dras-Leona to rush out at them any minute.

'Don't wait you morons! Just leave!' Godric shouted in both their heads.

'We are not leaving him behind,' Eragon said resolutely.

Godric was silent for a few moments and then. . . 'Waiting is dangerous Eragon. . . are you sure you are willing to risk Helena like that?' Godric's words came out in a purr, soft and shrewd. 'She could die, you know. Are you willing to risk that?'

Helena was momentarily stunned at what she was hearing.

'I… that's not what I…. I don't want….,' Eragon stumbled over the words.

'No!' Helena gave the mental equivalent of a shout. 'You will not use that against him Godric. We will wait for Brom, and you shame your name! I expected better from you!'

Godric withdrew from their minds, hurt and frustrated.

Brom showed up a few minutes later. Seeing that they were both ready, he jumped unto Snowfire.

"What happened," he asked.

They give him an as brief summary as they could.

"We must get out of the city before they close the gate, if they haven't already. If they are shut we are doomed," Brom said darkly.

They galloped away just as a group of soldiers ran into the street. Lucky from the opposite end from where they needed to go.

They raced through the busy streets of Dras-Leona. Men, woman and even a few children screamed as they jumped out of their way. Helena on more than one occasion had to magically push people to the side to avoid collisions. They still almost crashed several times.

When the gate came into sight they noticed that it was already nearly closed. To make matters worse, several lines of pikemen blocked their path, and several arches were positioned on the wall and to the sides. They could hear the clinking of metal boots, indicating even more trouble was on the way.

"We are not going to make it!" Eragon yelled.

"We must try." Brom said, voice both calm and hard. "I will deal with the men, but you must try and keep the gate open."

Helena was already trying to magically push against the gate, but found something blocking her. "The gate is guarded against magic," she said frantically.

"Don't slow down!" Brom yelled and turned Snofire from a gallop to a full-on sprint. Eragon made to follow and, with a mental command to Elladora, Helena did the same.

The horses made whinnying sounds of protest, but before they came to close to the pikeman, Brom softly spoke a few words in the Ancient Language. Helena couldn't hear any of them over all the noise all around them.

More than half of the soldiers in their field of vision dropped lifelessly to the ground. Like puppets that had their strings cut off.

It was for naught however; the gate slammed shut before they could reach it. The horses reared up, their forehoof slamming against the wall of reinforced iron.

The shock of it nearly threw them of off their mounts. Luckily, they didn't injure themselves to badly. Unluckily, there situation still looked hopeless.

"What do we do now!" Eragon asked desperately.

"I will think of something," Brom said in a calm voice, simultaneously pulling a sword from the scabbard at his hip.

Helena took a moment to take stock of her surroundings and then her eyes narrowed. She made a clawing motion towards some of the nearby houses, as if grabbing them from a distance.

With some a challenging "ha!" she collapsed them, blocking of some of the streets; hoping it would slow down some of the nearby soldiers.

She levitated some of the rubble she had created, planning to use them as projectiles to throw at any soldiers. Since the remaining soldiers didn't fall prey to whatever it was that Brom did, she guessed that they were protected from direct magic attacks.  
She chose this method because levitating stuff was simply one of the easiest things to do now. It didn't even require any real effort anymore.

She started to move the debris above some of the soldiers, planning to let gravity. . . –

She yelled in agony as she felt a sharp pain lance through her middle torso. The loss of concentration made the debris fall back harmlessly towards the ground.

She glanced down and saw that the she had been shot. The arrow was still sticking out of her belly, a trickle of blood oozing out of her skin. Judging by how she suddenly felt woozy she guessed the arrow might have been poisoned, but it could just be the trauma.

Regardless, she was desperate. If she was going to do something she needed to do it now.

There was only one way she could see them get out of this.

She really hoped this would work.

"Grab onto me and hold on tight," she commanded with a pained voice. Not waiting for them, she herself grabbed both Eragon and Brom by the arms.

Destination.

She melded her mind with Godric's and saw through his eyes the patch of ground where she wanted to go. It was impossible for her to picture it any more clearly.

Determination.

She really had no problem yearning to want to go there. Despite being angry at Godric for his earlier attempt to use Eragon's romantic interest in her against him, he was a part of her. He represented safety. He would protect her and she needed protecting right now.

It was getting difficult to stay Conscious.

Deliberation.

This was the sticky point. It required a certain amount of control, which she may not have right now. Not too hasty, not too slow, not too much, just right – confident and lucid, no hesitation. It had always been the most difficult part of the technique for her. It required a calm and clear mind. As filled with adrenaline as she was, she knew this could end badly.

She prayed that with her new intent based magic that the Deliberation part became less important in favor of the Determination part.

She prayed that apparition was possible _at all_ in this universe. The last time she tried it, she ran into an immovable wall. Though, that time she had been trying to cross dimension.

She turned, and felt relief when she felt the familiar squeezing sensation.

With a dull thud, she hit the grass and immediately lost conscious.

* * *

AN: One more small chapter, and we will have reached the point where the original fic ended. My first draft (which is _always_ terrible) of chapters is almost at the point where they meet the Varden, but I want to make sure I am happy with them before posting.


	9. Eragon interlude II

They were doomed.

The gate was closed, protected by magic. The wall was too high to climb or jump, and there were soldiers on top of it even if they _could_ reach it.

Despite the incredible, and horrifying, ease with which Brom had killed some of the soldiers, more were coming, and they seemed to be protected from… whatever it was that Brom did.

"What do we do now!" Eragon asked desperately. Godric and Saphira were still too far away and they would surely be overwhelmed before they could arrive. It seemed like the entire garrison of Dras-Leona was moving in on their position.

"I will think of something," Brom said calmly as he draw his sword, not taking his eyes of the approaching soldiers.

That Brom wasn't panicking did a lot to calm Eragon's fears. If the situation was truly hopeless, surely he wouldn't be so calm would he?

He saw Helena raise her hands towards some of buildings, and with a bunch of cracks coming from their wooden support, seemingly _pushed_ them unto the streets with raw power.

She then, with only a slight grunt of effort, began to lift the broken pieces from the ground.

Eragon didn't care that Helena insisted that any truly competed user of the Ancient Language could easily defeat her; when she did stuff like this it was hard not to feel inadequate.  
It did, however, seem to take a certain amount of concentration for her to do this, as she didn't seem to notice one of the bowmen that peeked out off a window in one of the still standing buildings lining up a shot towards her.

Eragon opened his mouth to warn her, but he was too late. With a sickening squelching thud, the arrow burrowed itself into her belly.

Brom looked at Helena's injury in dismay, and then his features grew harder and grimmer then Eragon had ever seen.

Brom brought his left hand up to his face and then placed his other hand over the ring he always wore. The sapphire that was embedded into the ring began to glow softly.

He would never find out what Brom was planning though, since Helena seemed to have a plan of her own.

"Grab onto me and hold on tight," she commanded, her voice strained due to the pain she must be in.

Not waiting for them to respond, she grabbed both of them by the arms.

Brom looked somewhat uncertain, but then decided to trust whatever she was doing and grabbed Helena's arm as well, his ring losing its soft glow. Eragon quickly did the same.

She took a deep breath, and then the world went _mad_.

Up, down, left, right, above or below, suddenly lost meaning. All he knew was that the world seemed to _twist_ somehow.  
His felt his entire body being squeezed together. Tighter then he knew a person could be squeezed together, and still survive. It was like they were being pushed through a very narrow hole that felt like it was less than an inch in diameter.

He felt like he should be in incredible pain, but while it was certainly uncomfortable, he didn't feel any _actual_ pain.

Until they were dumped unceremonious on the ground far away from Dras-Leona; that was painful.

Eragon shakily stood up, disorientated. Suddenly, he had to bent over, and nearly vomited up his lunch when he dry-heaved – bits of dirt that he had almost swallowed falling out of his open mouth.  
He looked around himself, and to his horror saw his horse Cadoc lying in bloody chunks on the ground; like only half of him had been transported – not even just cut in two, but like it was randomly decided what parts made it through and what parts didn't. Every wound on the animal seemed marked by a strange spiral pattern moving inwards. They were also not bleeding as much as they should. Even more horrifying was that the horse was somehow _still alive_ , and whinnying in terror. It seemed like an appalling and cruel violation of the natural order to Eragon. He knew that nothing could or should survive wounds like that that; all it did was needlessly extend the suffering. He once again only managed to keep his lunch down through a tremendous amount of will.  
He looked around himself and saw that both Snowfire and Elladora were here as well, thankfully both of them were all there, though they were clearly panicking. Eragon tried to reach out with his mind to calm the animals, but they were too terrified to be influence in that manner.

"What happened?" he asked, his breath still heavy because of the adrenaline.

"Teleportation," Brom said. "Normally a very costly spell. It is an exception to the rule where distance makes spells cost more energy. Only the amount of mass you are transporting determines the cost. Most can only move a very small object, but with–––"

A roar interrupted Brom's explanation, and Eragon looked up to see an angry Godric dive at them.

Eragon froze in primal fear.

Brom didn't.

With a fluid motion that could only come from someone who had experience being attacked by a dragon, he danced out of the reach of his claws.

As Brom stared at the red the dragon, and for a small moment, Eragon saw an expression of pure loathing on his face, but then he blinked and it was gone so fast Eragon thought he might have imagined it.

Then Saphira was there, on top of Godric with her jaws over the base of one of his wings. _'_ Calm yourself!' her mental voice echoed in their heads.

Undaunted, Godric snarled at Brom and Eragon. 'You! This is your fault. Because of your incompetence Helena is hurt!'

Godric's comment reminded Eragon that Helena was indeed injured.

"We need to treat her wounds," Eragon said hurriedly.

"I'm on it," Brom said. He looked towards Godric and spread his hands in a placating gesture. "I need to treat her wounds," he said soothingly.

He slowly moved closer to Helena. Godric's head hovering over her body protectively, watching Brom with narrowed eyes, but he made no other aggressive moves.

Meanwhile, Saphira still had one of his wings in her jaw. 'Have you returned to your senses?' she asked scathingly.

'Yes, I won't kill the old man, or your rider,' Godric grumbled, 'Now get off.'

'As you wish,' she huffed, clearly offended, and released the red dragon.

Brom looked over the shaft of the arrow stuck into Helena, and prodded it a little.

Even unconscious, a grimace appeared on Helena's face. Causing Godric to growl in warning.

"I know what I am doing," Brom barked at the dragon. "This will go easier if you don't interrupt me." He continued to look at the arrow wound thoughtfully. "We were lucky; The arrow head isn't stuck in the bone. This should be relatively easy heal."

He took out a knife and carefully cut the arrow free. He took a sniff at the bloody arrowhead and frowned. "A paralysis reagent I think. Not immediately dangerous, but she will be out for a while." He then rapped the wound in bandages.

In the distance they could still hear alarm trumpets coming from the city.

"Give me your sword, boy," Brom stretched out his open hand to him. Wordlessly, Eragon handed Za'roc over to him. Brom took a step towards the still struggling Cadoc, and with a single swing beheaded the animal. Eragon flinched away, Cadoc had been his horse for over a month, but he couldn't call what Brom did anything but a mercy. When the animal finally died the spiral pattern from the wounds disappeared, and blood now started to flow normally from the corpse.

Brom threw Za'roc back at him. Eragon nimbly caught it. "We need to get out of here. There will be search parties send out after us," Brom said as he inspected Snowfire for injuries. "You fly Saphira, and stay in the air this time, no matter what happens to me! Help me tie Helena to Allie, she––– "

'No. she stays with me,' Godric declared in a voice that brokered no argument.

"She can't fly right now. It is too dangerous to be bound to you while you are flying, unconscious as she is," Brom objected.

'I will walk, then,' he said simply.

Eragon knew that this would slow them down somewhat since a dragon on the ground was actually a lot slower than a horse, but Godric clearly wasn't going to take no for an answer.

Brom realized it too, and consented to secure Helena in his saddle; if they had more time they might have been able to tie her in such a way it would be safe to fly, but they were in a hurry.

Seeing a dragon sprinting on their feet would have probably been comical in any other situation. Even when they were too young to fly, they mostly moved around in a slow crawl or by jumping if they wanted to move fast.

 _'_ Are you alright?' asked Saphira once they were alone in the sky.

'Yes,' said Eragon. _'_ Though I don't know how we would have gotten out of their if it wasn't for Helena.'

'All this time searching for the Ra'zac and nothing to show for it,' she huffed in irritation.

'Well…. It wasn't a complete waste of time,' he said, thinking about how he met Helena.

Saphira made a rumbling sound that passes as the dragon's version of a laugh. 'Yes, you seem quite taken with her.' She paused for a moment. 'I approve; she is a good influence on you. I think I trust her with you.'

He knew that was as close to a glowing recommendation of someone as Saphira would ever give anyone.

He often found himself comparing himself to her and thinking he wasn't good enough to be a Rider, despite Saphira's insistence to the contrary. Her argument basically boiled down too: _I am awesome, and don't make mistakes. I chose you, therefore you are, or will be, awesome._

He knew that Helena had been reluctant to share her plans for the future with him, because she didn't want to influence him – Yes, he knew, he wasn't stupid – but it was still hard not to be inspired by her.

When Saphira had hatched for him, he had planned to raise her in secret in the Spine – a bad idea in hindsight. Being a Rider had seemed like a glorious thing, but he hadn't truly realized what it meant.

Rebuilding an order of legendary warriors. Having to make a choice between bending to Galbatorix's will or fight a man that brought an entire order of Riders and Dragons – all of whom had vastly more experience than you – to extinction.

He hadn't wanted to face those facts. He didn't want to spend his whole life fighting the empire, so he simply chose not to think on it, and instead focused on revenge.

Helena didn't seem to have those problems.

She hadn't outright said it until recently, but he had already guessed that she was going to fight.

It was like the question of _If_ had never come up and she went straight to the question of _how_. And Helena wasn't even from Alagaësia! She had no duty or stake in this conflict beyond what she chose for herself. By all rights she should focus exclusively on getting back home, yet she didn't.

He knew she had a history with strife, she had hinted at it on occasion without giving details; she had experience. Not in being a rider perhaps, but in… well… the unusual he supposed. Like being a rider was just another thing in a long list of adventures.

The one time she misspoke and said something that could, if you squinted, be considered prejudiced, she had been horrified with herself. She had been much more upset with herself than Eragon had been. Whenever she failed to master some skill like sword fighting, or magic training, Eragon could see a similar look of guilt on her face.

It was like she held herself to an impossible standard. Like she felt she needed to perfect, like she needed to be this _bastion of light_.

If a young woman like her doesn't hesitate in resolving to fight Galbatorix, despite it seeming to be suicide to any who looked at it rationally, how could he do any less?  
Seeing the plight of the slaves had just been the thing to reaffirm what he already knew deep inside: Helena would fight and he would join her.

Besides the more recently developed sense of hero-worship, Eragon also knew that he was still hopelessly in love with her; Saphira's teasing made sure he could never forget it.

He had gotten a few dreams about her that he had carefully hidden, even from Saphira. He felt as if he would die of shame if Helena ever found out about them.

He had thought her beautiful when they had first met, and still did, but that earlier infatuation seemed to have… not quieted down exactly, but now came accompanied by a desire to just get to know her.

He wanted to know what she had been through, what made her into the person she was.  
He wanted to know what made her happy, to know what to say to put a smile on her face.  
He wanted to protect her, though he knew that if he mentioned it to her she would probably get angry, saying that she didn't need protecting.

He wanted _her_ to know that he wanted all those things, and then not laugh at him.

He didn't know how to bring it up though.

His uncle Garrow had never been a romantic type. When the question of romance had come up he had responded: "Simple honesty is best. Just tell the lass you're interested in her. If she isn't stupid, then she will consider herself lucky to have someone like you."

Roran had later privately confided in Eragon that he had no clue how his father could have _possibly_ convinced his mother Marian to marry him.

He wished Roran was here; he would have been able to give good advice. He had successfully charmed Katrina, one of the most beautiful and eligible woman in Carvahall into falling for him. And that was _despite_ there being much wealthier young men around that could give her a much more comfortable life.

They flew low and fast over the plains, moving northeast, away from Leona lake. The landscape gradually growing wilder and harder. Civilization would be scares here, which Eragon guessed was why Brom went there.

The weather seemed to be against them though. Eragon could see dark clouds and lightning flashing in the distance. The wind grew so bad that it eventually forced Saphira to land.

"What's wrong?" Brom asked when they touched the ground.

"The wind's too strong," Eragon replied.

From then on they all traveled on foot. Since Godric was already slowing the pace somewhat by insisting to carry Helena this didn't slow them down any further.

The weather seemed to be mocking them; throwing heavy wind in their faces, slowing them down, and obscuring their vision with loose flying sand.  
All of that, without any rain to obscure their tracks.

Eventually the coming night forced them to halt and make camp. They tried to hide themselves in a slight depression in the plains, but Brom's grim expression as he looked towards their clearly visible tracks – large dragon tracks no less – made it clear that hiding wasn't likely to work.

Saphira set herself upwind, acting as a living shield against the elements.

"How is she?" Eragon asked while looking at Helena.

Brom walked over to her. "She is fine, don't worry," he said, and gave up his own blanked to cover her.  
Helena's magical bag's unwillingness to let anyone other than her remove stuff from it was annoying sometimes.

Dinner was sparse – they didn't dare light any fires in the darkness. With the clouds overhead, the night was pitch black; they could barely see each other.

"How did they find us?" Eragon asked in a moment of inactivity. He spoke softly, as if afraid they might be overheard, though that was a pointless worry. The blowing of the wind would obscure any sounds they could make by just talking.

"One of the palace servants warned me that there where spies amongst them. I don't know if it was me or you two that tipped them off, but they must have gotten suspicious and informed Tábor… and through him, the Ra'zac," Brom said.

"So what now? We can't go back to Dras-Leona can we?" Eragon asked

"No. We can't, not for a few years," Brom said. "If it were up to me we would go to Gil'ead. Even if we can't get the Ra'zac, we still need to find Arya. She is essential to get the cooperation of the elves." He grinned slyly. "Gil'ead is the second largest garrison of soldiers in the empire, we would have to be completely mad to go there. . . which means nobody would expect it."

He lost his grin and turned somber, letting out a weary sigh. "That is, of course, assuming that we will survive the coming night. The Ra'zac will be hot on our trail tonight, hunting us in the darkness where they are strongest. We will have to keep a careful watch tonight. If we are lucky, it will take them a long time to find were our trail began; I don't think there is any way for them to know to where we teleported."

"Right," said Eragon, standing up, squinting his eyes. He thought he saw a shadow move in the distance. It was so damn hard to see anything! He stepped towards the source of the disturbance, trying to get a better look.

"What is it," Brom asked tensely, hand moving to the sword on his belt.

Eragon stared at where he thought he had seen movement, and found nothing. "I don't know. I thought I saw something. It must have been a––" Something heavy impacted the back of his head and Eragon's vision briefly flashed with a bright light. With his fading mind he noted that Godric and Saphira were roaring.

Eragon toppled to the ground, unconscious.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Eragon awoke to a dull and painful throbbing in the back of his skull.

He opened his eyes and noticed that the night had become a bit brighter. The weather must have cleared somewhat. Starlight slightly illuminated his surroundings.

He tried to sit up, but discovered that his hands were tied to his feet behind his back. A gag was also tied over his mouth.

He clumsily turned himself and saw that Helena and Brom were similarly bound.

'At least they aren't dead… you don't bind a corpse… do you?' Eragon found it very difficult to think; every thought seemed to take a monumental effort.

Saphira and Godric both had their wings bound with chains and their legs were shackled; there was a metal muzzle over their heads.

Eragon tried to contact them, but found that his mind was once again restricted to his own person. That sometimes overwhelming sense of openness that he had known ever since he first received the _gedwëy ignasia_ from Saphirawas gone _._

"Ah, he iss awake I sssssee," Eragon heard someone speak in a strange hissing voice.

Eragon looked up and found one of the Ra'zac looming over him.

Fear jolted trough him. Despite not being able to speak any spells he tried to reach for his magic out of desperation, but for some reason couldn't reach the power. He tried again and again, but he simply couldn't find that familiar well of energy within him.

The Ra'zac laughed chillingly. "Yesss, very effective isn't it. Your powers won't safe you now, young rider. We have our own ability'sss."

As if to prove his point, the creature leaned in close and let out a foul smelling breath.

Eragon felt all his muscles go limp, and suddenly found it even harder to form a coherent thought.

"You have made thisss a lot more difficult than it had to be," the other, taller Ra'zac hissed. "Our master is very eager to meet you. Why he wantsss you I do not understand. You are so very incompetent."

Eragon tried to muster up some anger; some manner of defiance, but it was just _so hard_ to think or move.

"You are very lucky," his shorter companion continued. "Not many are ever important enough to let live." He then let out a cruel laugh and looked hungrily at Helena, licking his lips. "The others will not be so fortunate."

Godric let out a muffled growl from behind his muzzle, and struggled in his chains.

'The Tall One' as Eragon had started to calling the tallest Ra'zac looked at the red dragon in amusement. "A weak Rider has ever been the bane off any Dragon. They were most cooperative when we threatened to kill you both."

The things attention was drawn away from him when they heard Brom groan and roll to the side.

"It'sss wearing off. Give him another dossse," The Tall One hissed.

"Let'sss just kill him," said the Short One. "He has caused us much grief. And why not kill the girl as well?"

The Tall One ran a finger down his sword. "A good plan, but the king would surely want the girl brought to him asss well."

"He only ever said to bring the boy," Short One argued.

"No… the boy would talk…. but you can kill the old man," Tall One said.

Short One eagerly dragged Brom to the center of the camp and shoved him to his knees.

The knowledge of what they were about to do broke through whatever was clogging his mind and he desperately struggled against his bindings, muffled screams escaping through his gag.

There was a bright blinding light; as if the sun had suddenly appeared before them.

Eragon grimaced and closed his eyes in pain, but the Ra'zac seemed to handle it much worse than he did; both were screaming in pain.

Through his tear filled eyes, he could vaguely make out Helena crawling over to the dragons and casting some sort of spell on them, an exploding bubble of red light causing all of their bindings – including his own – to come loose.

Godric immediately grabbed Helena is his front paw and… flew away. In the darkness he could vaguely make out the silhouette of another winged creature chasing after them.

Saphira only spared a moment to snarl at the retreating red dragon and stretched out her back, preparing to pounce on one of the Ra'zac whom still hadn't recovered from the bright light.

When she jumped, a black monster – Eragon couldn't describe it any other way – rammed into her midair.

At the same time, there was a sound of a bow string firing, immediately followed by an arrow hitting the tall Ra'zac in the chest; making it scream in pain.

The shock of it did seem to snap it out of the light induced paralysis that it had been under, and with inhuman dexterity he snapped a second arrow out of the air midflight before it could hit him.

Both Ra'zac races up into the direction from which the arrow had come from.

A figure in a black cloak raced out from where he had been hiding – apparently deciding that he couldn't beat the two of them. He ran towards the direction of Saphira, who seemed to be winning against the black monster, probably hoping that she would consider him an ally and not squash him.

 _Brave man,_ Eragon thought.

The stranger threw himself on the ground. His momentum causing him to slide past and under Saphira's belly, putting her between him and the two Ra'zac.

Unlike the stranger – whom Saphira was apparently giving the benefit of the doubt for now – the Ra'zac had to dodge away from Saphira's tail sweep.

"Get the boy!" the tall one yelled. "We need to get her back under control!"

Obeying, the short one ran back down towards Eragon.

Saphira tried to come to save him, but the black monster was still occupying her attention.

Eragon tried to stand up, but whatever the Ra'zac had done by breathing on him still seemed to be effecting him, and he stumbled instead.

A few feet before the short one reached him, the Ra'zac was tackled onto the ground by Brom, raining heavy blows down on its head. "You will not have him!" Brom snarled.

It only seemed to stun the Ra'zac for a moment though, and with his arms pushed Brom of off him, sending his mentor flying in an arc over ten feet through the air. He landed heavily on his back, knocking the air out of his lungs. Eragon thought it would be some time before he'd be able to move again.

It seemed to have been enough however, since in that short time Saphira seemed to have injured the monster enough to allow her to safely disengage and move over to Eragon. The stranger following close behind her, always trying to keep her between him and the remaining Ra'zac.

The Ra'zac seemed to give up the fight, the both of them letting out some harsh hissing sounds and then ran over to the black monster.

The black monster in question reared its head and let out a terrible screeching sound.

The sound seemed to tear at his mind, causing both Eragon and the stranger to cover their ears to escape from the pain – with limited success.

Both Ra'zac climbed up on the monster's back and snarled, "Enjoy your freedom while you can, human. Our master is more powerful then you can imagine. You won't be able to deny him forever."

As their last act, the tall Ra'zac threw his knife at Brom – the only one them that wasn't being bodily shielded by Saphira.

"No!" Eragon cried as the knife imbedded itself in Brom's ribs.

 **Author note:**  
Chapter is over. now I want to rant a little; Feel free to skip this.  
I have several problems with how this scene was originally written by Christopher Paolini.  
First: He wrote it when he hadn't decided yet that the Ra'zac should have the same physical attributes as an elf. They should have easily been able to wipe the floor with all the humans there.  
Second: the stranger (you know who he is) speed of arrow fire could rival Legolas'.  
Third: The Ra'zac could see better in darkness then the stranger ever could. They could easily catch him in the night. There is no way he would have been able to kite them like he did. Again, I remind you that they have supernatural strength, speed and perfect dark vision. Why would they take a lantern with them as they did in canon? They didn't need the extra light; it only helps their enemy's. At this point the only ones who could fight the Ra'zac in darkness are elves, dragons, fully trained Riders, and Roran who's manliness allows him to overcome such a comparatively insignificant thing as logic.  
fourth and most importantly: Were the bloody hell are the Lethrblaka (the monsters) in this scene! Honestly, this is bothers me! The Ra'zac have some super deathly mounts that they use to move around. They couldn't have caught up to them on foot, so they must have used the Letherblaka. Where are they! Why didn't they help?!

Seriously, when I was writing this scene I was wracking my brain trying to come up with some reason, some justification, why they don't all get captured.  
Ultimately, the only answer I could come up with was Saphira's awesomeness.

Lastly: it made no sense for the Ra'zac to attempt to kill Eragon in canon as they did. Yes, having Brom jump in front of a knife is heroic and all, but it just doesn't make sense. The Ra'zac know that Galbatorix would kill them if they actually _succeeded_ in killing Eragon.

Yes, I know Brom didn't have his ring at this point in canon, but I let him keep it. I don't think it makes sense for him to give away something so valuable to a mere messenger as prove of identity. There had to be a less costly way for him to do that. Why didn't he use it here against the Ra'zac? For the same reason Eragon couldn't use magic in this situation.

Yes, I know the Ra'zac's special abilities aren't supposed to be this effective on a rider. I am changing it. Eragon's mind is still human and the Ra'zac are supposed to be the ultimate human hunters.


	10. Declaration and Promise

**And now we reach beyond what was the original Wisdom and Courage plotline and go our own way. A short chapter, but I feel this conversation deserves to be one chapter. The next will be a small one as well. sorry.  
**

* * *

Once again Helena woke up in the middle of the wilderness, with all her muscles having grown stiff from sleeping on hard ground. Her fist sensation was that off a long sprout of grass tickling her face.  
The second was that of a sharp pain on her arms and abdomen.

She blearily opened her eyes and found herself in what at first glance looked like a large leathery tent.

A few seconds after she became aware, the 'tent' moved and Helena discovered that it had just been Godric covering her with his wings.

 _It would explain why I am not freezing like last time,_ she mused.

'Where are we?' she asked him sleepily, her eyes still adjusting to the sunlight.

'Safe,' he said simply. He made some very short jerking motions, like a dog drying its hair by shaking, and a cloud of dust appeared around him. Helena guessed he must have been rolling in the sand to camouflage himself. 'More specifically we are about ten leagues southeast of Dras-Leona.'

'What happened to you?' she asked next. Godric looked like he had been in the fight of his life just recently. His scales were torn in several places.

'We were pursued by some creature; I don't know what it was. It could fly, and followed us for a long time,' Godric gave the dragon equivalent of a smirk, 'Eventually I was able to… convince it to leave us alone.'

And with that the event of last ni– actually she didn't know how long ago it was. She remembered briefly waking up to find all of them captured. She had tried not to draw attention to the fact that she was awake, and think of some means of escape.

When it was clear the Ra'zac were about to kill Brom she had to try _something_. She remembered closing her eyes, and then casting the most powerful 'Lumos Solem' that she could, hoping to ruin the Ra'zac's night vision for a while; giving her a little time to act.

It had been a lot more effective than she had guessed, but she wasn't going to complain about that.

Next, she had crawled over to the dragons and casted the most powerful unlocking spell that she could.

It had released all the bindings on the dragons, and also untangled the knots that bound her own hands and feet.

She hadn't known that the unlocking charm was capable of untying rope, but again, pleasant surprise.

The next thing she remembered was. . .

'You left them behind,' Helena said in shocked horror.

'You were in no position to defend yourself; I had to get you to safety,' Godric said calmly.

'You left them behind,' Helena repeated

'Yes, I did'

'How could you do that?!' Helena asked, looking at her dragon like she was seeing him for the first time.

'If Saphira is smart she will have grabbed Eragon and fled as well. We couldn't fight them in the day, not with you being out of the fight. They had some strange powers that seemed to paralyze both Brom and Eragon, preventing them from doing anything.'

'And what about Brom? We couldn't just leave him behind.'

'From what I know of Brom: he would have told both of you to save yourselves if he could. You… and Eragon too I suppose… are much more important.'

"That doesn't make it OKAY!" she yelled shrilly, not using her mental voice. 'You shouldn't have left them, I don't care about the risks!'

'Dear one–––'

'Don't you 'dear one' me!' she cut him off.

Godric was silent for a while and that he said solemnly, 'I think you and I need to talk.'

'Clearly,' she said coolly.

'First heal those cuts on your body. I tried to carry you in my paws without cutting you with my claws, but I wasn't entirely successful.'

Helena looked herself over, and realized that the sharp pain she felt when she woke up was due to some cuts on her arms and abdomen. She didn't think they were very deep, nothing but small flesh wounds really. Since the wounds only appeared recently this shouldn't be too hard to fix.

… then again, this was healing magic. If it failed it would make things worse.

With a sigh she took of her shirt, and moved her hand over the red lines on her body. "Episkey," she incanted. She moved very slowly so as to lower the risk of making a mistake.

When she was done she turned her attention back to Godric. _'_ So much for trying to stop me from getting hurt, huh,' she bit at him.

He ignored her hostility. _'_ Do you remember the conversation you had with Brom right after you left Teirm.'

Puzzled as to where he was going with this, she tried to remember what they talked about back then; it had been over a month ago.

'I think, we talked of Werecats…' she said without much surety. 'and Brom also gave me an explanation about how the magic in Alagaësia worked.'

'During that conversation you said something; Something that utterly terrified me.' Helena was nearly blow away by the debt of emotion she could sense from Godric.

 _'_ What did I say?' she asked timidly; she couldn't think of anything that would evoke such a response.

'You said that if it wasn't for the existence of wards, and if you could use the Ancient Language, you would fly over the Galbatorix and trade your life for his.' He said, fear oozing from their link.

'Well… yes.' Helena said numbly, _'I mean it just makes sense, right? One life to end this whole conflict. Its only logical.'_

'It isn't _just_ one life,' Godric snapped, 'It is _your_ life.' He let out a deep breath, the warm air feeling pleasant on her skin.

'I truly despise that headmaster of yours, you know?' Godric continued softly, 'Snape wasn't wrong when he said you were raised as pig for slaughter.'

"I wasn't raised to be anything!" She retorted, feeling her temper rise again. "To imply that I was manipulated into making the choices that I made is to diminish them. I am proud of who I am and my choices. Nobody forced anything on me!"

'You were encouraged,' Godric pressed, _'_ The Stone, The Chamber, your Godfather, you were forced to deal with it by yourself, and you were congratulated for it. You should have been admonished instead. You were a child; you shouldn't have had to deal with all that shit. The adults should have dealt with all that, AND THEY COULD HAVE!' the last words were bellowed, 'If you could do it, then they could have done it. _'_ He continued with a softer tone again. 'You may not be able to see it, and I don't want to diminish your own achievements, but you were encouraged to take this path. Dumbledore's plan involved your death at the end, and only a technicality that nobody could have predicted saved you in the end.'

'What's your point?' Helena asked tiredly. She had already forgiven Dumbledore for what he did, and it still was ultimately her choice to throw herself on Voldemort's wand. What was Dumbledore supposed to? If there was another way to get rid of the horcrux in her scar, she knew he would have just done that instead. Any other choice he could have made would have resulted in the deaths of thousands more.

'They needed a martyr; they wanted a martyr; a martyr you became. My point is that I don't like it that you are so willing to sacrifice yourself. I don't like it that you are willing to sacrifice yourself for people who I would consider unworthy of such a sacrifice. Ask yourself, was the wizarding world truly worth saving?'

'You know I didn't do it for ' _the wizarding world'_ ,' she said derisively. Yes the wizarding world had problems, but that really wasn't the point. _'_ What I did _,_ I did it for my friends; the people that I care about; the people that made my life worth living in first place. What would the point of my life even be? If the ones that give it meaning keep dying to preserve it?'

'But you would have done it regardless,' Godric insisted, 'That you are willing to apparently trade your life for Galbatorix's death is prove of that.'

Helena considered Godric's words carefully. She couldn't say that he wrong exactly, but all the same… it wasn't _wrong_.

'You knew what I was,' Helena said softly, 'You hatched for me, you chose me. Why would you do that if you disapprove of what I am?

Again, there was a lull in the conversation as Godric tried to find the right words to say.

'Never ever think that I disapprove of you Helena. I admire your selflessness; you are a true hero. I can't say I understand this 'saving people thing', but I admire it. You deserve every happiness the universe can offer you. You deserve it more than anybody has ever deserved it before you.'

Somewhere during Godric's speech Helena's jaw had slowly fallen open. Touched was too small of a word for what she felt right now; both because of the words and because of the emotions they conveyed.

Her mind was too overwhelmed with emotions, both her own and Godric's, for her to continue the conversation mentally.

"I. . ." it took a while for Helena to regain enough of her bearings to get her vocal functions in working order. "That's... too much Godric. That is too much credit. A lot of what happened to me, just... happened, it was luck. I didn't do it because… anybody would have done the same in my position!"

Godric signed, a puff of smoke coming out of his mouth, causing Helena to use a weak Ventus spell to keep the smoke out of her face. _'_ You have many admirable traits dear one; your false sense of humility when it comes to your own achievements when complimented is not one of them.'

That admonishment actually made Helena feel a little better; That previous adulation had been too overwhelming.

'But there is a problem', Godric said sorrowfully, 'because of who you are, there is a good chance that you will never receive what you are due.' Godric's voice grew to a harsh angry tone. 'You will give, and give, and give, and give, until there is nothing left of Helena anymore to give. Like a candle that takes on flame and is consumed by fire, you will be consumed by this need to save. And I will be forced to watch as the one who matters more to me than anything in this world gives to those who may not even deserve it."

Helena huffed. "Now you are simply exaggerating. I take care of myself; I am hardly unhappy."

'I hope I am exaggerating, but it is something I am afraid off. You already said you would give your life to safe strangers.'

"What do you want exactly?" Helena said, frustrated. "I thought you wanted us to fight Galbatorix?"

'I do want to fight Galbatorix,' Godric sounded similarly exasperated. 'But not at the cost of your life.'

"I hate to break it to you Godric, but fighting Galbatorix is hardly going to be a safe endeavor." Helena replied in perfect deadpan.

'I know that,' Godric replied, with amusement. Helena was glad the tone of the conversation had lightened briefly. 'I just don't want you to think that trading your life for Galbatorix is a good idea.'

"I am not going to carelessly throw my life away if that is what you are worried about, but neither will I consider myself above everyone else. I suspect there will be many souls involved in the coming conflict, many of them willingly dying for their ideals or their loved ones. I am no different than any of them."

Godric pushed himself upwards with his front legs so that he towered over her. _'_ So be it, _'_ Godric said with all the solemnity of a king passing judgment, 'if you insist on this, then know this: if you must put the word's wellbeing above yourself, then I will always put your wellbeing before that off the world. If you are to be this worlds Hero, then I will be your Hero!"

Helena blinked at him, unsure about what to say. It wasn't like she could ever top such a dramatic proclamation, nor did she want to dissuade him to be honest. She was very touched by it. Seriously, her draconic partner should become a play writer.

'Ehm. . . cool,' she said eventually. 'So can we return to saving the world, now?'

'Very well,' Godric blew out another puff of smoke. 'But before we proceed I will demand a promise from you.'

"And that is?"

'That if there ever comes a time when you are planning to give your life for some cause or other; that you will not leave me behind.'

"What do you mean?"

'That whatever your fate may be, we will face it together. In case I am not being clear enough for you: If you die – I die.'

Helena averted her eyes and it took a while to answer. "How can you ask this off me?" she whispered.

'Quite easily. I am a very selfish dragon,' Godric admitted without shame.

"I don't want you to die needlessly," she said in a small voice.

'It would not be a kindness,' he said, 'There is a large part of me that understands Galbatorix. If I lost you, I too would probably like to set the world on fire."

To have someone hold her in such high regard, to have someone value her so highly was – quite frankly – a bit scary.

"I don't think you should be so depended on me Godric, it isn't healthy," she said.

'Would you be any different?' he challenged.

She tried to picture it and, yes – she admitted. She would also want to tie her life to Godric's. She wouldn't want to see the world burn if he died though. Probably. . . it was hard to wrap her mind around such a scenario.

'I see you understand,' Godric said. 'I will have this promise from you Helena.'

"What if I don't," she challenged back at him, giving him a defiant look. she _really_ didn't want to make such a promise.

Godric's neck circled around her. He narrowed his eyes at her; they had a dangerous glint to them that Helena never expected could be directed at her. _'Then I shall grab you in my claws, fly you to some Merlin forsaken mountaintop where no one will ever look for us, and keep you there until you see reason. You are being a hypocrite. It is alright for you to lay down your life for a cause, but I am not allowed to do the same?_

"That is different," she protested, "There is a difference between dying to safe people and dying just because you don't want to live anymore."

'True,' he admitted, _'_ but the end result is the same. I repeat myself, give me your promise. Take as long as you need to think on it, but realize that until you do, our adventure stops here. _"_

she considered it for a long moment, trying to think of some way out, something she could say that would convince him.

She couldn't, not without him calling her out on hypocrisy, true or not. She doubted he would listen to her even if she could come up with a perfectly good argument. A dragon's sense of logic can be weird and self-centered sometimes.

Her shoulders slumped in defeat. "You are not leaving me any choice."

'No. I am not.'

Helena signed and briefly switched over to speaking mentally again, allowing Godric to feel her sincerity. She knew he wouldn't settle for anything less.

'Together forever, in sickness and in health, and not even death will be allowed to part us,' she said as seriously as she could.

'Funny, but I don't love you in that way,' he said in amusement, though Helena could tell he was satisfied. He moved his head and neck so they were face to face again, giving Helena room to move again.

"What?" She stood up and put her hands on her hips. "Am I not good enough for you?" she joked, pretending offense.

'You lack some of the proper parts, _'_ he said, eyes sparkling mirthfully.

'While we are on the subject of romance, could you please stop being so hard on Eragon.' It wasn't that she had suddenly decided to respond to his advances, but it was just none of Godric's business who she chooses to spent her time with.

'He doesn't deserve you.'

"I am beginning to suspect that if I have to wait for someone you think _deserve_ me, I am going to stay a virgin forever."

'Damn strait.' He said proudly, raising a front paw and poking her slightly with the blunt edge of his great ivory claw. 'No boys for you until you are at least a few millennia old, young lady."

"But Daaaaaaaaaad," she wined pitifully, arms flailing wildly about herself in a tantrum.

He blew some more smoke out of the corner of his mouth. _'_ I will endeavor not to judge him to harshly and give him a chance,' he reluctantly said in a tone of voice that implied this was some massive sacrifice on his part. Next, he smirked, 'but someone has to play the overprotective family member and scare the piss out of him. _What are your intentions_ and all that!'

Helena smirked. "Poor, poor, Eragon."


	11. Can't think of a title with no spoilers

**AN: Two people have asked about the rule that says that when a Rider dies their Dragon dies as well. That was a rule that the film invented and was never present in the books. It is true that the death one sometimes causes the death of the other (from both ends of the relationship) or drives them mad, but death is not the automatic rule.**

* * *

They had no difficulty finding Eragon, Saphira, and Brom again.

After their heart to heart they had flown back towards were the Ra'zac had ambushed them, and from there had simply followed the horses' tracks. Surprisingly there were three horse tracks. Godric had told her what became of Cadoc so there should only be two. Of the Ra'zac they found no trace besides deep talon footprints where they guessed their flying mounts must have taken off.

They found them near a large sandstone cave that they never would have found if they hadn't been looking from the sky.

It was Saphira who greeted them first, poking her head out of the small entrance when she noticed their approach.

She didn't look happy.

'You have some nerve, showing your face to me again,' she snarled, showing of her teeth.

Helena could tell that Saphira was talking exclusively to Godric, though she allowed her to listen in.

'My rider is what is most important to me, Saphira, and keep in mind that if I had stayed that second leather winged monstrosity would have occupied me regardless.' Godric's voice was calm, collected. He had obviously known that this was coming and had prepared himself for this as best he could.

'You fled like a coward.'

Helena was starting to fear this would turn to bloodshed soon. Saphira seemed to be looking for a fight, and she knew Godric was normally prideful enough not to let an insult like that go.

'I am no coward,' he said, voice firm, but somehow there was no challenge in it. It was a simple denial of Saphira's opinion, but stated casually enough to imply that this wasn't worth fighting over.

Helena didn't blame Saphira; Godric _had_ left them out high and dry. She knew he didn't think he had done anything wrong, but the others likely wouldn't see it that way.  
Merlin, _she_ still didn't think what he did was right, and she was the one who benefited! Just goes to show that despite it being impossible to care about each other more – or maybe because of it – they won't always agree on everything.

Saphira continued to stare at Godric. Helena thought she looked incredibly sad. Her words came wearily, as if accompanied by a deep sigh, 'And I had such high hopes for you.'

Helena could feel the stab of pain that reverberated through Godric's being. She suspected that that show of disappointment had hurt him more than any show of anger or insults ever could.

Saphira turned to Helena, 'Brom is dying.' Helena felt herself grow cold at those words. She had never been as close to Brom as Eragon, or even Saphira, but he had helped her, and she knew that he was a good man. 'Eragon has done all that he could, but it hasn't been enough. You know magic that nobody else is capable of, **please** save Brom if you can.' If Helena could take Godric as a standard for dragon behavior, then for a dragon to say _'please'_ was a big deal.

Helena felt a feeling of immense guilt and shame well up inside her, 'I have never been very good at healing magic,' she said. She could only heal very simple things without resorting to potions.

'You must try,' she retorted. Helena was surprised at the desperation in her voice; she knew Saphira liked the old man, but not _that much_.

She jumped off of Godric's neck and went into the cave. She immediately noticed Brom lying still on a blanked with Eragon standing vigil over him. When Eragon saw her his face grew so hopeful that it was almost physically painful for her. _I am going to disappoint him_ , she thought.

She also noticed another man with brown hair, thought much darker than Eragon's, sitting some ways off from the other two. He appeared to be around the same age as her. His eyes were dark grey, and he had a hard edge about him.

His head turned to her, but otherwise didn't move. "Hello," his voice was deep and strong. "Introductions can wait, if you are going to do something you should do it quickly. He is growing worse by the minute."

Giving a quick nod, she moved over to Brom; he looked grey and pale. There was a nasty smell coming off of him that she was sure she would be able to identify in her Husky form as the smell of death. When she touched his hand she found it cold.

"What happened?"

Eragon spoke quickly. "He took a dagger to chest. I think the dagger punctured his lung or something."

She winced. "Has he woken up since. . ." she trailed off.

He swallowed. "Once." Eragon's voice was thick and shaky, like he was on the verge of tears. "He said goodbye."

Helena inspected Brom and didn't notice any wounds on him. "I have already healed any surface wounds, it was all I could do," Eragon said, and she could hear the self-depreciation in his words.

Healing surface wounds was the only thing _she_ could do as well. There was a reason why to become a healer you still needed to study at least another three years before being allowed to operate on any serious maladies. She knew that in those extra years of study you didn't just learn more magic, but also what was essentially a normal muggle biology course.  
Lockheart had demonstrated quite clearly what would happen if you attempted it without proper training when he vanished all the bones in her arm.  
 _If_ she knew precisely what was killing him, she might be able to make a potion for it, but those took time, time they didn't have.

"There is nothing I can do Eragon," she grimaced

"Can't you at least try," he begged.

"I can heal surface wounds well enough, but anything more is beyond me. If I do it wrong, it would just make things worse. In this case it would certainly kill him," She tried to reason, but she already knew he would insist.

"He is already dying; you can't make it worse."

She spread her hands in a powerless gesture. "You are asking me to kill him Eragon. That is what would happen."

It had no chance of working. She had no clue about human biology, nor did she know anything about the wound and with her already changed magi–––

Her magic _had_ changed to emphasize the intent factor of magic, so the chance of this working wasn't _completely_ zero.

"I will try," she sighed, "but don't be angry at me for failing."

"Just do your best." From the look in his eyes she knew that he fully expected her to pull off a miracle.

 _My job description: doing the impossible,_ she thought sardonically.

She put both her hands on Brom's torso and closed her eyes. "Episkey," she whispered. Episkey was a spell meant to heal very minor injuries, but it _was_ a healing spell. She figured it would be easier to have some base to start from. As of now she had never attempted to do magic with nothing but intent besides levitating things. This didn't seem like a good time to experiment, but there was no time.

She felt her magic coming to the surface and tried focus on her wish for Brom to get better. To not disappoint Eragon. To see him wake up, open his eyes and–––

With a jolt Brom opened his eyes and started having a seizure.

 _No! You don't have to open your eyes right now! Get better first!_ she thought franticly as she and Eragon tried to restrain him to prevent him from hurting himself even further.

After just a few seconds he just _stopped_ , his whole body going limp. When she checked his wrist she found that his heart had stopped beating; his last shred of energy having expended itself during his convulsions.

Helena lowered her gaze to the floor, "I am sorry. I failed."

"You warned me," he said, voice hallow and his face pale, horrified at what he had just seen. "I am sure you did your best." Helena couldn't help but wince. She had made a mistake. She wasn't sure if it would have worked at all if she had done it perfectly, but she had made a mistake and Brom was now death because of it.

What she had done had probably made Brom's death a lot less peaceful than it otherwise would have been.

'Don't blame yourself.' Godric spoke softly in her mind, _'_ You knew it was a vain hope. You told Eragon that this would most likely kill him. He _insisted_ that you try anyway.'

True, but once she realized that there was, in fact, _something_ she could try to save his life she probably would have done it even without Eragon's insistence.

'Then learn to be better,' Godric continued when he noticed her thoughts on the matter, 'but don't you dare think that you killed Brom. He would have been dead without you regardless.

Nobody spoke a word for what seemed like several minutes. "I am sorry," she said again, partly because she still felt guilty and partly just to break the uncomfortable silence.

"It isn't your fault." He didn't look at her and his gaze eventually landed on Godirc.

From the way he suddenly stiffened she knew he was sorely tempted to blame Godric, just because he wanted to blame _something_.

"It isn't his fault; he didn't kill Brom. He panicked and felt he needed to protect me." She said hastily, putting a hand on Eragon's shoulder.

'Typical,' Godric signed, smoke coming out of his nostrils, 'You are okay with him blaming you and blaming yourself, but you are not okay with me being blamed. I had a lot more chance of saving him than you ever did.'

Godric's next words were broadcasted so that they reached everyone in the cave, though his words were directed primarily at Eragon, 'I am sorry for your loss Eragon. I don't know if me staying would have made a difference and it is pointless to think on it now, regardless. If blaming me makes you feel better about it then feel free to do so.'

"It doesn't help," Eragon said evenly, expressionless, though Helena noticed that his shoulders were shaking, as were his hands when he closed Brom's eyes.

She had enough experience with grief to know what would happen next. She gave the dark haired stranger a _look_ , and with an understanding nod he went outside.  
Helena noticed he gave Godric a wide berth. That wouldn't be so strange – dagons _were_ scary after all – but he didn't seem to have that same nervousness around Saphira. _A mystery for later perhaps._

"The witch warned me," Eragon said when they were alone.

"Angela?" As far as she knew Angela was the only witch (of a sort) that Eragon had met besides her.

"She said I would lose someone important. I thought," he swallowed, audibly, his face was growing red, his hands bald to fists. "I thought she meant Roran or maybe Saphira. Perhaps even you. I didn't–" He got interrupted by his own snuffle, his eyes were growing watery "I didn't know–" Snuffle. Pause. "I didn't realize." Heavy breath. "How much Brom… I didn't––" snuffle. He could barely get the words out now, tears were rolling freely down his cheek.

"Shh, You don't need to say anything more," she said and moved in front of him, holding him and putting his head under her own chin. Eragon fell apart in her arms and started sniveling. Pride and strength evaporating, leaving behind the fifteen-year-old boy who had just lost yet another father figure. Helena felt her heart contract painfully by virtue of sheer empathy.  
It didn't last particularly long, only about thirty seconds until he went quiet and still, but she knew it was important. You couldn't bottle these things up… well you _could_ , but it wouldn't help.  
Once he grew quiet she held him for what she guessed was another thirty seconds before separating.

"I only knew him for two months, yet this hurts as badly as when my uncle died." Having cried his fill, he seemed much more collected now.

"That is less time than I spend with my godfather, though I knew him longer," Helena usually didn't give a lot of specifics when talking about her past, but this felt appropriate to share now. "When he died, I went _crazy_ and tried to torture someone to death." That someone _was_ his killer, _but still_. she smiled wanly, "I say, you are handling it better than I did."

Eragon looked at her sharply when she admitted that she once tortured someone "I can't see you doing that."

Helena held her wanly, hollow smile, "Thank you. Your confidence is misplaced, but thank you all the same." She looked towards Brom. "How do your people honor the dead?"

"We bury them. We place black peddles over their eyes, give them an iron amulet and place a sprig of hemlock over their chest to ward off evil." Helena found that a bit odd since hemlock was usually associated _with_ evil, many dark potions used them as an ingredient even. She wasn't going to mention that though.

She put a hand on his shoulder. "You want help?"

He shook his head, "Just help me carry him outside. I will make the grave."

She did exactly that, and watched as Eragon used his magic to mold the sandstone ground into a makeshift tomb. Saphira had looked for the right plant and peddles to honor Eragon's traditions, and Helena tried to offer him the one necklace she owned for the rite – neither Helena nor her mother had been very ostentatious and all the jewelry the Black's owned had been removed because it was cursed – but he had refused the offer.

She watched in shock as Eragon started to carve words into the stone.

He wrote:  
 _Here Lies Brom  
Who was a Dragon Rider  
And like a father to me  
May his name live on in glory._

 _So Brom used to be a Dragon Rider?_ The more she thought about it, the more it made sense to her. It would explain how he knew so much about them.

"Wait." She startled slightly when she heard the stranger – she really should learn his name soon – speak not four feet away from her. _I didn't hear him approach._ "Is that Brom? THE Brom?"

"I am going to say: Yes." Granted, she didn't know for sure that they were talking about the same Brom, but it seemed likely. If the Brom that had killed Morzan wasn't called _'The Brom'_ then she was curious what another Brom could have done to upstage him.

"Is he the one that killed Morzan?" his voice was insisted and filled with an emotion that she couldn't place.

"Yup," she said. "That's him."

His face grew stony… well even more stony. In the short time she had known him he seemed to be constantly broody, but that may just be the general mood; this was hardly a happy occasion. "Then I own this man a great debt," he held out his hand to her, "My name is Murtagh."

 _It truly is amazing how similar our worlds are with certain customs, not to mention language,_ she thought absently.

"I am Helena," she said, and took his hand to shake it. He had other plans however, and tried to bring her hand to his lips for a kiss. The key word there being _tried_ , since she pulled her hand back when she realized what he was doing.

"Oh. Sorry," He didn't look all that repentant though. He simply gave a shrug, and she got the feeling he was surprising a smirk. "Were I come from that is just considered polite. I didn't mean to offend."

From what she knew, only the highest social classes did that.

Interesting. . .

She narrowed her eyes slightly "Just don't do it again." She was still thinking about what his apparent etiquette implied about where he came from. "Not to sound rude or anything, but why are you here?"

"I helped against the Ra'zac," he gave a self-depreciating chuckle, "I didn't help that much to be honest. Saphira did most of the work."

"That is commendable," she said. Most of the noble class in the empire was loyal to the king and he had implied that he came from that same group of people, or at least having lived among them. Also, that Brom killed Morzan wasn't exactly common knowledge.

Without giving it much thought she reached out with her mind to see if her suspicion was correct, but almost immediately found herself violently ejected from his mind.  
His was unlike any other mind she had ever encountered. She could somehow tell that his mind wasn't as _free_ as hers. He couldn't reach out beyond his own person like she or Eragon could, but it was still aware of itself.

Murtagh's posture grew hostile, "If I didn't know that your dragon would likely eat me alive for it, then woman or no, I would hit you for that. Stay out of my mind."

"Sorry," she said, suddenly feeling guilty. "I just. . ." she tried to find words to justify herself, but she had trouble finding them. She had judged Brom for trying to do this to her, but here she was doing the same.

Murtagh chuckled darkly. "You wanted to see whether or not I was trustworthy."

She averted her eyes to the ground. "Yes." Her voice was small.

He snorted, "Oh don't be like that. I don't blame you."

"You don't?" she said, very much surprised, "but you said–"

"I said 'Stay out of my mind', and I meant it. I will protect my inner most thoughts vigorously, but I didn't say you were wrong to attempt it." He smiled, though there was no happiness in it. "To sacrifice a stranger's right to privacy to insure your own safety." He laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Who wouldn't make such a choice? I know I would."

Helena frowned. "That is a very cynical thing to say."

His smile was sharp and held a challenge in it. "But am I wrong? Eragon tried to make that choice with me, and now so did you. And from the few things Eragon has said about you, I half expected you to be made out of rainbows."

Apparently feeling that he had made his point he climbed back up to their cave, leaving a very conflicted Helena behind. _I'm terrible._

Eragon was done making the grave and turned to her, "You go back inside. I think I will stay here for a bit."

A part of her wanted to stay and offer silent support, but it was possible he just wanted to be alone now, and she didn't want him to have to come out and say it if so.

When she returned to the cave she chose to talk to Murtagh again, mostly out of a lack of having anything else to do. "So, who are you?" In retrospect, she _really_ should have just asked him this before trying to probe his mind.

He was currently pulling out his bedroll. "I already gave my name, but I suppose you want details?" She nodded curtly. "I am a fugitive on the run from the empire."

"Are you with the Varden?" That was the obvious answer.

"No, I am loyal only to myself."

"Are you a criminal?" she asked, making an effort not to sound accusatory. That was the second most obvious answer.

"I have committed no sin worthy of punishment, and that is all I will say on the matter." To emphasize his point, he crawled under his blanked, and laid down with his back to her.

 _Touchy subject, got it._

* * *

 **AN: I am morbidly curious to know how many followers this chapter is going to cost me. I am sorry for those that hoped Brom would make it through, but did you really think the warning that her new magic could be dangerous was just for show?** **Harry wasn't a master healer at the end of the books so why would you assume that Helena is one?** **Just because I gave her a few extra abilities doesn't mean she knows all of the HP magic. It is dangerous to assume anything.**


	12. The road to Gil'ead

They had decided to go to Gil'ead next. Saphira had informed them that Brom had told her of a way to contact the Varden by a man named Dormnad who lived there. More importantly, Brom had told them it was the most likely place for Arya to be held prisoner besides _Urû_ _'_ _baen_. Eragon had also informed her that he had another dream about her, and he felt that if they didn't rescue her soon, it would be too late.

Murtagh had told them they were mad for thinking they could rescue an elf from what was essentially the main gathering point of the imperial army, but Helena and Eragon both agreed that they had to try.

Speaking of Murtagh, Helena wasn't exactly sure just _why_ he had chosen to travel with them.

He had told them that he was on the run from the empire, so she suspected that a part of it was a desire for outlaws to stick together. He would have a better chance as part of a group than alone. The Ra'zac could still be after them, after all, and with their number they could always afford to have someone on watch during the night; a safety he wouldn't have if he were alone.  
Another part of it was probably because Eragon and Helena were Riders and well…. dragons are interesting and cool. He seemed adventurous enough to want to see and seek them out once the rumors of a new Rider reached him, though he was very surprised when he learned there were _two_ and not one.  
Helena also suspected that Murtagh was also simply lonely and craved companionship. He admitted his closest friend was his horse for Pete's sake! She also suspected that he would leave if she dared mention this.

 _If_ what Murtagh wanted was companionship he appeared to have found it. He and Eragon seemed to get along swimmingly. A problem that she noticed between herself and Eragon was that they didn't have many interests in common except for flying. Their personalities may match, but not their history or culture. It made conversation sometimes difficult. She knew that problem could be solved easily enough by simply talking about her past, but… it was just easier not to.  
Murtagh, on the other hand shared many of his interest. They could, and had, spend hours discussing the various means to track and trap wild game and the merits of each method.

Her suspicious off Murtagh's origins steadily grew stronger whenever he talked about the political structure in the empire. He knew more about that topic than any other person she had met so far, including Brom. Like he was doing so now. . .

"Galbatorix really doesn't involve himself much in the running of the empire except when it comes to magic use. He mostly just tells his court how he wants things to be and they, eager for his favor, make sure that is how It will be. He doesn't show his favor or disapproval often, but whenever he does it almost always signals the rise and doom of someone."

"Does that mean that Marcus Tábor is doomed?" As she understood it, he was the one directly responsible for the slavery in Dras-Leona, and for just this once, she wished Galbatorix the best of luck in punishing him. Granted, he wasn't being punished for what he should be punished for, but she would take what she could get.  
That wasn't to say she thought Galbatorix wasn't also to blame for that atrocity, but he was indirectly responsible by his inaction while Tábor was directly responsible.

Murtagh looked pensive, "It is hard to say really. His family was the first to swear fealty to him and that grants him a lot of leeway, but on the other hand, he must have done something tremendously stupid for Galbatorix to come visit him personally. Do you know what he did? I never found out."

"I heard a rumor he was trying to recruit magicians," she said.

Murtagh simply gave an impressed whistle. "Brave man," he said with a lopsided smirk that managed to convey his sarcasm.

"So you said Galbatorix just tells his nobles how he wants the world to be… so how does he want the world to be? Why doesn't he do anything about the Urgals?" Even if he was an evil megalomaniac, it made no sense to Helena why he wouldn't defend his own territory.

"Good guestion, and it's hard to tell. He was really vague about it," Murtagh said, looking contemplative, "Lord Hamlin – he is the one responsible for that region – did petition the king for soldiers to handle the Urgal problem. He was simply brushed off; Galbatorix said the problem would solve itself soon enough."

"He probably just doesn't care," Eragon said dismissively.

Murtagh snorted, "Of course he doesn't. When have kings ever cared one wit for their subjects beyond the taxes that they bring them?"

Helena's head jerked a little. "What do you mean?" she asked somewhat warily.

"I mean that that if you look at history, Human kings have always been either greedy, lazy, corrupt or incompetent. It is academically accepted that if the Riders hadn't supported King Palancar's heirs that they would never have lasted as long as they did." And Helena's opinion of the Riders of old took another hit, "Don't get me wrong," Murtagh said when he noticed the angry look in Eragon's eyes, "I am no supporter of Galbatorix. I am just saying that he is no better or worse than the kings of the past."

"He allows slavery within his borders," Helena said incredulously. "If what I have heard is correct, the practice was all but _gone_ before he came to power."

"True," Murtagh conceded, "and he could do more to prevent both that and various other evils that happen within his domain, but the lack of slavery in the past wasn't due to any benevolence of the previous kings, but the interference of the Riders."

"Whom he destroyed," Eragon felt the need to add.

"All except for the Forsworn yes," Murtagh said dryly. "Again, I am not trying to defend him. I am just saying that most of the previous kings were just as bad."

"Things will be different once we defeat him," Eragon said face a mask of determination. He had become harder since Brom's death. He seemed to think he needed to fill Brom's shoes, or maybe it had something to do with Brom's last words? Or maybe just a desire to make his old teacher proud? Helena didn't know for sure, but whatever the reason, he had become more self-assured.

"Sure it will," Murtagh said with obvious sarcasm. "Why do you think his replacement would be any better? What do you think this new king would do to those that opposed him initially? Human are capable of remarkable cruelty to those we consider enemies, or even just outsiders."

Helena had to admit, what Murtagh was saying disturbed her greatly. It made their struggle seem pointless.

"Or do you perhaps seek to replace him?" Murtagh continued, looking shrewdly at Eragon.

"What?! No!" Eragon exclaimed, seemingly horrified at the idea.

"Then how would you insure the next ruler would be better than Galbatorix?" Murtagh challenged with a raised eyebrow.

Eragon thought about it for a moment. Helena noticed that he was a lot less rash since Brom's death, more prone to think before acting or saying anything. _Tragedy does have a way of maturing us._ "There must be a worthy candidate. I will simply throw my support behind that person when I find him."

"Right, _'Simply'_." Murtagh made air quotes with his finger. "Well I wish you luck." He had already told them both he had no interest in fighting the empire, and he really didn't want to meet the Varden either for some reason.

 _Interesting. . ._

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Murtagh and Eragon were sparring again. Both of their swords were temporarily enchanted by Eragon so they couldn't cut themselves to pieces with them. Eragon had seemingly decided to channel all his grief over Brom into determination to get better in all facets of his training. Helena admitted that as far as coping mechanisms went you couldn't do much better than that.  
She always found it very exciting to watch these matches because they were very evenly matched. When Eragon sparred against Brom, he always tended to fight defensively at the start, waiting for Brom to tire, and then changed to a move aggressive style towards the end. With Murtagh that didn't work for they were both young and tired at about the same rate. Both were extremely skilled, and neither could ever gain too much of an advantage over the other.

They weren't _completely_ the same in terms of skill though… or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that it was a _different_ kind of skill. Murtagh seemed very methodical in his fighting, as if he was treating this as some high-speed chess match. He always seemed to know what he was doing and why, and she knew this because he sometimes took the time to explain it afterwards.  
Eragon on the other hand seemed to rely more on his raw talent. Oh, he knew all the moves of course – Brom had made sure of that – but he always relied more on his instincts and what _feels_ right to him.

It made sense when you thought about it. Eragon only had two months of training while traveling to rely on, while Murtagh had admitted to having started training in combat shortly after he could walk and hold a small stick. Take that, and the fact that Eragon was two years younger, and it made sense that Eragon's technical know-how wasn't as advanced as Murtagh's. When you consider those things, it was surprising that Eragon was able to keep up with Murtagh as well as he did.

She had once heard sword fighting described as dancing, but the reality of it wasn't nearly as elegant. They didn't _just_ fight with their swords. There was also a lot punching and grappling involved, using their whole body as a weapon. It was part of why she was at such a disadvantage when it came to fighting close range. Size and strength _mattered_ , and speed and strength were a lot more closely related that most people thought. If you were stronger, you could also swing your sword faster. Sure, there were plenty of techniques or tricks that could help someone overcome a physically superior opponent, but that only works if they didn't know those same tricks as well.

Despite it's lack of elegance, Helena did think there was a sort of… wild savage glory in seeing these two young men trying beat each other senseless with their weapons and limbs. The identical face-splitting smiles both of them sported added to that impression.

Sometimes one the boys would glance at her direction, and that was always somehow followed in an increase in effort and aggressiveness. Godric had commented that perhaps humans weren't _completely_ different to dragons in certain behaviors. Despite Murtagh not being immune to the primordial urge to show off in front of a member of the opposite sex, he otherwise hadn't shown any interest in her besides cordial conversation since that first attempt to kiss her hand. Helena was very glad of it; some stupid love triangle was the last thing they needed right now. She also found that she sometimes found Murtagh to be. . . unsettling, but she hadn't figured out the reason behind that yet.

After one particularly brutal engagement that had ended with both of them grappling on the ground, they decided they both had enough. Both were breathing heavily, but the corners of their mouth were lifted in wide grins. Their breath showed itself as white damp due to the cold.

"Alright, my turn now," she stood up and summoned her staff from across the camp into her open hand. She would usually practice with one of the boys after they had tired themselves out so the odds were a little more even.

Murtagh nodded and went to sit at the complete opposite side of the camp from where she had been just moments before. The occasional nervous glance he shot Godric, who had been lying next to her, made it clear why he did so.

Helena was starting to get annoyed at his avoidance of her partner. She couldn't think of anything Godric might have done to offend him. She narrowed her eyes slightly at Murtagh. "Alright, just what do you have against Godric?"

"Oh," he seemed surprised at the question, as if he hadn't realized that he had been treating Godric with an usually amount of wariness. "Nothing." He paused if considering he should say more. Everyone kept silent, giving him expect looks. He sighed and continued speaking with obvious reluctance. "As a small child I once met Morzan's dragon. He wasn't very friendly. Godric looks a bit like him."

 _Interesting. . ._

She turned her attention to Eragon and held her staff with both hands at the ready position, pointing towards Eragon. As soon as he acknowledged her with a nod she came at him with a jab. Brom had told her repeatedly that a short jab was the safest move she had available, since any hit coming from the side would allow any reasonably experienced opponent to charge in close, destroying her reach advantage, and diminishing the hitting power of her strikes.

Eragon – who knew about her increasing length trick – dodged to the side, and from there it became a contest of speed and reflexes with Eragon trying to come in close or otherwise grab her staff to take away her control. The contest was harder on Eragon since it forced him to move around more than Helena, who could remain mostly stationary while focusing mainly on always keeping her staff moving to prevent grabbing, while also keeping it ready to intercept any attempt at closing the distance.

"You really should convert that thing to a spear when you get the chance," Murtagh yelled from the sidelines, "There is no fight where having a spear isn't preferable to a simple staff."

While a part of her wanted to dismiss the suggestion out of hand because: _Using a staff is one thing, but what kind of self-respecting witch uses a spear?_ She did see that he had a point. "Got any other advice?" Murtagh had received formal training a lot longer than any of them, so he should have plenty to say. Eragon was a bit of a savant when it came to the sword and often didn't understand why something that came so easily to him was so difficult for her. Sort of like Snape and potions really; everyone – even Helena – acknowledged that he was a genius when it came to potions, but that didn't help – and perhaps even hindered – his teaching of it. He simply could not empathize with people who didn't see potions like he did. It was like a university graduate in math trying to teach a bunch of children with dyscalculia multiplications and divisions.

Murtagh on the other hand seemed to have needed to train himself up to a master level without such an advantage. Maybe he would be a better instructor?

Murtagh looked at her, considering. "Plenty: don't take your eyes of your opponent, always strike first, footwork is half the battle, etc. But the most important thing to remember is this: no amount of technical knowledge is a substitute for actual fighting experience. There are no short cuts, no special techniques or secrets that can save you. Fighting is not about knowledge, but skill. Practice often, hard, and regularly. That is the best advice I can give you."

 _Bugger._

He must have read the disappointment on her face because he gave an amused laugh. "Don't be like that. You aren't _that_ bad. You're a woman, it's unrealistic for you to expect to defeat Eragon or me in a fair fight."

Helena bristled. Despite his words, she knew Murtagh wasn't trying to be condescending; he was simply stating what he saw as facts. Worse, she knew that in this specific scenario he was likely right. As much as her people back home may say 'women can do all that men can do' – and that's true dammit! – that didn't change the fact that the average female was physically a lot weaker than the average male, and she knew she was probably even weaker than the average female. Even the bookish Hermione had been taller and stronger than her. Even when she landed hits on either Murtagh or Eragon, it didn't seem to faze them as much as when they landed hits on her; more so with Murtagh as Eragon who tended to pull his punches with her. She should probably tell him to stop taking it easy on her, but she was far to grateful for the reduction in bruises. She was unused to dealing with this problem since gender roles were almost nonexistent in the world she called home due to magic being the ultimate equalizer.

She tried to tell herself that it was unfair for her to get upset over this since as a witch she would have advantages that nobody else had, but it was hard to remember that when she was getting tossed around during practice.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

A stark naked Helena was drifting along in a very cold pool of water. The pool was the result of a small extension from a fork in the Ramr River that flowed westward. It was the only body of water she had found recently that didn't look green from Algae. She didn't know if Algae made water unhealthy to bath in, but it sure didn't _look_ healthy.

Now that she was approaching the point where she was almost as good with her spells as before her transformation, she had decided to try out her new more freestyle kind of magic. She had tried slightly alter existing spells before with varying levels of success, but now she was truly using nothing but her new ability.

It sounded a lot easier than it was. Just intent and will manifesting itself as magic? So you just want something really badly and it happens? Sadly, it wasn't that easy.

Just telling yourself that you wanted something wasn't enough; you had to _truly_ want it. It was the difference between a starving person who hadn't eaten in days begging someone for a scrap of bread and an eight-year-old Dudley demanding a second serving of steak.

It wasn't easy to conjure up such feelings on command. Such a level of self-mastery was rare, and far above what she could do. Humans mostly don't have a choice in the feelings, emotions or urges they have. They just have a choice if and how to act on them. It wasn't impossible, the Patronus Charm was a perfect example of conjuring feelings on command, but it was hard.

Strangely, the only exception to this seemed to be moving things around; she wasn't sure why that was. Perhaps because it was so close to human nature? Humans had been moving things around by pushing against them since time immemorial, after all.

Right now, she was trying to conjure up the will or intend for heat or warmth. She reasoned that the best way to conjure up a pure desire for warmth was to deliberately freeze herself in cold water. She had waited until the sun had set, and the cold of the night has set in for extra effect. The moon was somewhere in its third quarter and casted her surrounding in a very dark blueish glow.

She moved her hand through the water, feeling the resistance, and sending an underwater wave to brush against her leg. She focused on the parts of her body where the water and the air met. Where the biting wind moved against her wet flesh. She closed her eyes and focused on how uncomfortable she felt, on the shivering of her body that hadn't stopped since her midriff had gotten submerged.

 _I really, Really, REALLY, would like some heat right now!_

The problem here was that in the back of her mind, she knew that she didn't have to be cold. All she would need to do is step out of the water and blast some fire around. It was difficult for her desire to be pure when the cause of her distress was entirely self-inflicted, and a simple solution was readily available.

 _But a simple solution isn't available,_ she told herself _, my stubbornness and pride will prevent that. This is the only way._

She was unsure of how long she remained in the water. Every minute was a struggle, a battle of her stubbornness versus her body's needs. If she hadn't told Godric to not interfere unless she was about to fall unconsciousness, she was sure he would have gotten her out by now. Murtagh and Eragon had already gone to sleep so there was no danger of them stopping her experiment. She had told them she simply wanted a late soak, but hadn't said that she wouldn't warm the water up beforehand like she usually did.

Eventually, her inner dialogue took the form of pleading aimed at her own magic.

 _Please warmth, please, warmth please, please, please, warmth, please, please._

She was starting to get a better understanding about the whole 'worship magic' thing that she had once heard about.  
Will. Intend. desire. Is it so different from a wish or a prayer? If ones wish or prayer is directed inwards towards your magic (which was sort of weird considering you were essentially praying to _yourself_ ) it might actually come true, if the desire is pure enough; At least that was now the case for her. . . and for little magical children.  
She had wondered if maybe her magic hadn't so much as evolved as it had reverted back to what it used to be when she was younger, but somehow that didn't feel right. She still had much more control than she did back then.

She knew that if she just used a bit of anger to fuel the magic this would be so much easier, but she stubbornly refused; she would do this right or not at all.

After a long time, so long she feared – hoped? – that Godric would get her out of the water just so she wouldn't end up dying of hypothermia, she noticed a shift within herself. It was the same sensation as when she picked things up with her magic and moved them around, except it wasn't; this felt warmer, she could tell its purpose. It was heat, but not the kind of heat you could use as a weapon. This was like the comforting warmth of a hearth fire that families huddle around together to escape the winter cold.

The change in temperature happened fast. One moment she felt her skin growing numb, one inch at a time, the next she nearly led out a scream as she felt like her skin was on fire. It was only painful for a very short moment however, as soon she grew accustomed to it. She gasped at the pleasant sensation, an expression of blissful relief appearing on her face and her vision grew blurry with tears. As soon as it happened she could see steam rising above her as a translucent white gas, barely visible in the dim light of the moon and stars.

Despite no longer possessing the all-consuming need for warmth she still felt a soft tendril of power connecting her to the water, keeping it at a stable pleasant temperature. It was like her levitation ability now; it felt almost as easy. Like a muscle that she had only now realized could move in a certain way, and now that she had done it once, she could do it again. It was different from her levitation skill though, in that… actually, she couldn't quite explain just why it was different, she just knew that it was. This spell went _deeper_ somehow.

She silently dubbed her new spell: _'hearthfire'_.

Her original plan had been to try making the water uncomfortably warm next to learn the opposite ability, cooling things down, but she wanted to bask in the pleasant sensation for just a little while longer.

After a minute of self-indulgence where she briefly dived below the surface, she righted herself so her toes touched the soft ground at the bottom. The pool of water wasn't really that big, just five feet deep and forty square feet large, with a small stream of water flowing downward from a higher altitude – she tried to warm the water up to an uncomfortable level using a normal underwater fire spell that manifested as a blast of boiling water so she could learn the opposite skill, but noticed quickly that she couldn't do it. While this wasn't a purely intent spell like _hearthfire_ – she had a feeling that spell simply _couldn't_ be used to make anything uncomfortable for herself – her magic still emphasize intent. When the water started to get uncomfortable, her magic would simply stop working properly. Her body simply didn't want the water to get any warmer and so it wouldn't. She couldn't trick herself into wanting something that she didn't.

With a disappointed sigh, she positioned herself horizontally again in a drifting position and just allowed her mind to wander for a bit.

 _Am I truly such a slave to my own physical body? I thought my mind would be stronger than the matter of my own flesh. Mind over matter. I should be better at this._

She found her thoughts drifting towards their newest companion.

 _Murtagh. . ._ she wasn't sure whether she liked him or not. He wasn't mean or anything; he could be rather witty at times, but he was very. . . pessimistic? Jaded?  
In Eragon she recognized a kindred soul: someone who wants to put an end to the evils of the world whenever and wherever he is confronted by them.  
Murtagh wasn't like that. He wasn't evil or anything – he recognized evil and cruelty for what they are – but where Eragon would vow to put an end to it someday, if he couldn't do it then and there, Murtagh would just sigh resignedly and move on. Unless it carried some personal significance for him he wouldn't go out of his way. As if he thought those things where simply inevitable, and fighting it was pointless. He openly admitted that he was loyal only to himself.  
She didn't blame him for not wanting to fight – nobody should be forced to fight if they didn't wish to – but at the same time. . . his worldview unnerved her. Perhaps because he represented what she would have become if she had given up at some point; like watching a twisted reflection of herself. He was like the version of herself that had decided that the trials in front of her were too much, and decided that she could only be expected to take care of herself and her closest friends. He was what she would have become if she had rejected the path the prophecy had predicted for her. She wasn't sure if she would have been able to approve of that Helena, and so she wasn't sure if she could approve of Murtagh. She didn't know how Murtagh became how he was; he probably had a good reason for it, but in the end, that didn't the change the result of what he became. Having a sad backstory – something she was increasingly sure he had – doesn't give you an excuse as far as she was concerned. He was an adult; it was ultimately his decision what to believe and what not to believe.

Thinking about Murtagh brought to mind another thing she felt she had to do.

She gathered her courage and lifted herself out of the pool. As soon as her midriff left the water she started shivering again. She tried to use her new spell to warm up the air around her, but found that the spell was… different this time. More similar as to when she moved objects around. The change was more gradual than the near instantaneous change in temperature that the small pool of water experienced. _There is so much I don't understand about all this_ , Helena grumbled internally.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"I wanted to apologize," She whispered in a crouched position next to where Murtagh was lying. When she arrived back at camp she found Eragon already asleep in his bedroll while Murtagh's eyes were still open and looking at the stars. It was convenient for her purpose since she felt this was a private matter between the two of them.

His head lifted to the side to look at her curiously "For what?"

"I should not have attempted to read your mind."

Murtagh rolled his eyes, "This again? I already said I don't blame you. It is––"

"Not right," she interrupted him, trying to look as serious as possible. "I must be better than that. I must be better than the ones I fight. If not, I don't deserve to win." She shouldn't have been so quick to use the mind arts on the servants back in Dras-Leona either. What right did she have to violate another person's mind in such a way? It wasn't even like she had accomplished anything with it in the end. They had failed in killing the Ra'zac.

Godric thought her a bit silly for thinking that way. He respected and occasionally admired her views, but he had trouble understanding them sometimes. As far as he was concerned, if she had a useful ability to give her an edge over her fellows then she would be a fool not to use it. A dragon's view of the world was a bit more… brutal than what she was used to.  
There was also the fact that she knew he would support any decision that would improve on her safety, and a willingness to check the minds of others for possible deceit would definitely do that.

Murtagh continued to look at her curiously, "It isn't just your enemies that do that, you know? Nearly everyone who is capable of it does it when they can get away with it. I can almost guarantee that the Varden will insist on checking your mind before they ever consider trusting you."

"All the same, I must be better than that." She glared stubbornly at him.

Murtagh stared hard at her for what felt like a full minute before he sighed and said: "If you intend to go to war with the empire then you will have trouble holding on to such idealism, but, for whatever its worth, you have my respect for trying." Suddenly he got a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Soooo. . ." _This should be good._ "You can turn into a dog, huh?" _Oh merlin's beard no!_ She had recently shown that ability to him, and every time she revealed that ability to someone she dreaded this possibility.

"If you _dare_ so much as _mention_ the word 'bitch' in any context, I am going to urinate on you in your sleep."

He looked _way_ too innocent to be believable "I wasn't going to, honest."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

'This is silly,' Godric complained sourly.

'Just do it,' she retorted, with an exasperated lifting of her eyes towards the heavens.

Shortly after Eragon had made Brom's grave, Saphira had somehow magically changed the sandstone into diamond. It was something that had stunned Helena when she had witnessed it. Godric had also been astonished by the feat, commenting that Brom must have somehow been more important to her than she let on if she was willing to go that far for him.  
While Helena thought Saphira's unusually high regard for Brom was interesting, it was the magic itself that held her attention. It felt more like her own version of magic than anything else she had encountered in this world thus far.  
She had, of course, tried to quiz Godric for answers, but he was decidedly unhelpful.  
He said that while he did know there was a power deep inside him, he couldn't use it at will.

Which let them to their current situation. Helena had theorized that since their magics felt similar, they might work in a similar way.

Godric twirled his claw in the air and mentally called out in a lazy mocking drawl, 'Wingardium Leviosa.'

The fallen branch of wood that they were practicing on completely failed to move.

'You are not taking this seriously,' she said, crossing her arms in front of her chest in annoyance.

'This doesn't deserve to be taken seriously,' Godric grumbled.

'Think of the possibilities of this works!' she insisted.

'I keep telling you that it won't work!' Godric insisted just as strongly.

 _'_ You won't know until you try, and there is no harm in trying,' Helena thought Godric was being incredibly stupid by not putting his all into this. Being able to use her own version of magic at will would be incredibly useful. Just think about how cool an apparating dragon would be! If there was even a small chance of this working, they should take it.

'Yes Godric, there's no harm in trying. Please proceed,' Saphira commented, sounding incredibly amused. When she discovered what Helena was trying to do she had insisted on being present for it. She was currently lying on her side a little way away from them, enjoying the warm sunlight.

Annoyed, Helena asked, ' _Why_ are you even here?' She definitely wasn't helping with her sarcastic comments.

'This is much more entertaining than watching Eragon and Murtagh beating each other with their sharp metal sticks for the hundredth time,' Saphira said, voice full of mirth.

'Now look what you've done,' Godric whined, making sure not to broadcast his words, so only she could hear them, 'You have made me into a laughing stock.'

'I'd say that this a great improvement over the silent disdain she has been showed you this past few weeks,' she pointed out.

'I guess. . . ' He gave the mental equivalent of sigh, 'I suppose it is a little better.'

Helena felt a surge of sympathy for Godric. Saphira's disdain has been tough on him; it still was. Godric respected Saphira a great deal. Whenever the humans traveled on their horses, Godric and Saphira usually spent the time competing against each other in various games. The troubles between them hadn't put a stop to that, they just made those games more serious and less playful. Saphira usually won those competitions, but, to Helena's surprise, this didn't seem to upset Godric much.

'Well then, you know what to do, and try and take it seriously this time,' she said, tapping her food impatiently. _'_ chop chop.'

'I swear the things I do for you. . .' he said giving her an annoyed glare that somehow made him look even _less_ scary than normal to her, though it probably would have sent anyone else running.

He twirled his claws again _'Wingardium Leviosa.'_

After about an hour of experimenting without any success they gave up. Saphira left after about thirty minutes, saying that the joke could only stay funny for so long.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

And so they traveled closer and closer to Gil'ead. They made an effort not to stray too close Urû'baen, or even most of the smaller villages that dotted the landscape, but their journey remained mostly uneventful. Eragon wondered just where the Urgals that had been wandering this area just months before had gone, but they didn't think much of it.  
Helena continued practicing in physical combat, while Eragon taught her more about the Ancient language. He had been studying it for longer and seemed to pick it up faster, so he knew far more about it than her. Murtagh occasionally joined them when they discussed magic, and Helena discovered that he knew a surprising amount about how it works – specifically what it was and wasn't capable off – though he didn't know any details and had little to no knowledge off the Ancient Language itself, nor could he use it himself.

 _Interesting. . ._

Occasionally he would ask what a word meant, and Eragon would sometimes indulge him.

Eragon and Helena also made an effort to keep up their mental combat training. Murtagh joined them once since he was curious how well his own mental shields held up. The way Murtagh shielded his mind was very different from how Eragon and Helena defended themselves. Murtagh's mind didn't empty itself or focused on one thing above all others. No, Murtagh's mind defended itself more. . . violently than that. Helena strongly suspected that he was self-taught. It was like his natural survival instincts manifested themselves on a mental level. By facing his defenses Helena knew that Murtagh associated his mind being invaded as synonymous with death.

 _Interesting. . ._

Helena was glad that this was one area where she seemed to have a big advantage over Eragon. He had once described trying to break into her mind as trying to swim through a thick liquid while simultaneously ignoring a symphony of an endless amount of string instruments that reverberated through his entire being.

He called it: "Beautiful. . . but severely distracting, kind of like you."

Helena felt her blood rise to her cheeks and suddenly found one of those few Lily flowers that had survived the winter very fascinating. _Must he be so forward. . ._

She heard Eragon yelp, and she looked up to find him rubbing against his forehead. An empty waterskin having collided with his head.

"Get a room you two!" she heard Murtagh yell from across the clearing.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"I have something for you," Helena said with a toothy grin, and one hand behind her back. It was late in the evening, and their party had already found an out of the way place to camp for the night.

Eragon looked at her in apprehension, but there was also some childish eagerness that she could detect. She was glad he hadn't completely lost his innocence yet. "What is it?"

She pulled out her hand from behind her back and proudly presented a large bundle of oatcakes. "Ta dah!"

"What's the occasion," Murtagh asked in amusement. Eragon seemed to be at a loss for words.

"It's Eragon's sixteenth birthday," she answered him. "isn't it?" she asked Eragon. They had spent a month traveling together between Teirm and Dras-Leona, so naturally they had talked a lot during that time. Neither wanted to speak much about their past or home to avoid becoming too melancholic, thus the safe topic of birthdays had inevitably come up.

"Yea it is," he said, voice heavy with emotion, "I didn't think you would remember though."

"Birthdays are important," she said. In many ways, she saw her own eleventh birthday as the day that her life truly began.

"Where did you get those anyway?" Murtagh asked, "And more importantly, can I get some?"

"When I went flying on Godric this morning I went a little further ahead until I encountered a town; I never learned its name. I got them from the baker there. I couldn't get anything special on short notice, but it's better than nothing," she said, "And yes, of course you can get some. I made sure to bring enough for three people." She gave Saphira an apologetic look, "I am afraid that there wasn't enough of it to feed a dragon, nor would I be able to carry that much even there was." Not without showing of her Mokeskin pouch anyway.

'I would not have found it tasty anyway,' came Saphira's amused reply. Godric had said much the same, but it was still polite to mention that they weren't being forgotten about.

"Well, I am grateful," Eragon said, "Back in Carvahall ones sixteenth birthday marks the day that a person officially becomes an adult in the eyes of the village. Usually a great celebration is held to celebrate the event. "

"Where I come from a person only becomes an adult when they turn seventeen. Though mine is a special case," she gave Eragon a pointed look; they hadn't told Murtagh about her otherworldly origin and she saw no reason to tell him yet. "For most people it is was sixteen."

"It differs from place to place in the empire," Murtagh offered, "The official age of accountability is sixteen throughout most of the empire. Before that, your parents or guardians are held accountable for your actions."

They all sat down in a circle on the grass, Helena laying down the cloth with baked goods between them. The dragons laying down their heads next to their respective riders.

"Is it true that some children marry as soon as thirteen here?" she asked between bites, mostly just to make conversation.

"That's disgusting," Eragon said, looking slightly green.

"Yea, I know, but well… I just heard a rumor." She had heard that in the middle ages marriage could happen very soon and she wondered if the same was true here.

"It is rare, but it can happen among the nobility for political reasons," Murtagh said. "Mind you, in that case they usually wait a few years until consummation."

"Can we not talk about this? I am eating," Eragon pleaded.

"Yea I suppose it wasn't appropriate," she said sheepishly, "So how do you usually celebrate birthdays?" she asked in an effort to change to conversation to something more suitable.

"It is only ever the sixteenth that is important really," Eragon said, "Family and friends come together to offer their congratulations, and in the case of the adults, some sage advice. Those who can afford it give a small feasts and organize some games."

"One friend who sticks with you at you're worsts, is worth far more than ten friends stick with you at your best," Murtagh said solemnly. He smirked at the question looks he received from the two riders, "I thought all the adults are supposed to offer some sage advice to the ex-child among us," he shot a mirthful glance at Eragon who responded with a rude gesture.

"It are our choices in life that determine who we are, far more than our ability's, desires, or heritage," Helena said, playing along and giving the extended version of the advice Dumbledore had given her at the end of her second year, and again in her fifth when she discovered her talent for Dark Magic.

She saw some strange emotion flicker across Murtagh's face, but it was gone as soon as she noticed it. But she _had_ noticed it, however.

 _Interesting. . ._

'Live in the present. Remember the past. And fear not the future, for it doesn't exist and never shall, there is only now,' Saphira added her own piece of advice.

"Oi! You are younger than me," Eragon protested.

'Young in body yes, but my mind is ancient, and even if it wasn't, that wouldn't make me wrong.' Saphira shot a glance at Godric, obviously expecting him to say something as well.

Godric yawned, blowing hot air at the picnicking humans; thankfully, his breath didn't smell like fish this time. 'Something honesty, something courage, and something about wisdom.'

'Eloquent as always,' Saphira mocked.

'There is no way I could ever compare to your poetic adages,' Godric said smoothly.

'Well, of course you can't,' Saphira stated, as if that was an undeniable truth of the universe that didn't even need mentioning, 'That doesn't mean you shouldn't try.'

"So Helena," Murtagh addressed her, "how do people celebrate birthdays where you are from."

"We give presents. We bake a birthday cake that we place a number of candles on, usually equaling the age of a person. The one who's birthday we are celebrating then blows out all the candles and makes a wish," Helena said with a wistful smile. "We usually also sing a _really_ silly birthday song,"

Murtagh smirked, "Well now you _have_ to sing it."

"It really is a very embarrassing song," she protested weakly. It wasn't like she had a problem with it, she just wanted to give fair warning.

"If you are singing it, then I am sure it will be beautiful," Eragon said.

Murtagh rolled his eyes. Helena giggled, _if only he knew_.

"Well aright. . ." she loudly cleared her throat, took a deep breath, and then… "Happy birthday to yoooouuuu. . .

-one terribly over the top rendition of Happy birthday later-

"…. Hip hip hooray." She finished throwing her arms wildly into the air.

At some point during her performance Eragon had hidden his face behind his hands in embarrassment. Meanwhile, Murtagh had grabbed his sides and was semi-successfully trying to hold in his laughter, and as a result, was making several short and quick snorting sounds.

She leaned closer to Murtagh as if to whisper something conspiratorially, but she made no effort to speak quietly. "You see?" She pointed at Eragon who had removed his hands from his face, but still looked incredibly embarrassed. "That, that expression right there, is why we do it." Even Dudley managed to look cute every year that his parents had done this.

"I think I can see the appeal," Murtagh said, his voice full of mirth at Eragon's expense.

"Well," Eragon said with an overdone sense of calmness as if wanting to pretend the last minute of his life had never happened, and addressed Murtagh, "What did you do to celebrate your sixteenth birthday."

"Nothing," Murtagh said with wave off his hand as if hoping to swat the issue away. "It doesn't matter."

"The hell it doesn't!" Helena swore, feeling herself get slightly drunk on the atmosphere, despite there being no alcohol involved. "That is just not acceptable. Eragon, you remember the words right," she said, showing another toothy grin.

Murtagh placed a hand over his face "Oh by all the forgotten gods, please no," he whined, the sound being muffled through his hand. which probably didn't help at all with convincing Eragon not to play along, judging by him mirroring Helena's grin.

"I remember them," Eragon said. We both took a deep breath and then. . . "Happy birthday day to yooouuuuu. . ."

\- one even more terribly over the top rendition of Happy birthday later-

"…. Hip hip hoorayyyyy." they both finished with wildly throwing our hands into the air.

". . . It isn't even my birthday," Murtagh protested weakly, and far too late at that.

"Doesn't matter," Helena said with all the authority she could muster, while slamming a fist into her open palm. "You clearly have some catching up to do. Maybe if you had celebrated them properly you wouldn't be so broody all the time." She knew that was a gross exaggeration; Murtagh really wasn't that broody, and was perfectly capable of joking. Tense and intense was a better word for him. She noticed that he never fully dropped his guard around them. This was as close to relaxed that she had ever seen him.

Murtagh leaned back from her, an affronted look on his face. "I don't brood," he said. He looked towards Eragon. "Do I?" Eragon simply smiled enigmatically.

"Anyway, I got a deck of playing cards somewhere, and yes, you have to join in, and no you don't have a choice."

Murtagh turned to Eragon offering him a sympathetic look, "You have my deepest condolences." Eragon just gave him a confused look in response, which made Murtagh look even _more_ sympathetic towards him.

The three of them played and talked well into the night, with Helena conjuring a small ball of light to see by and the occasional application of the _hearthfire_ charm on their suroundings to keep warm. She wondered if she had accidentally discovered the warming charm of Madam Malkin's clothing shop with her _hearthfire_ charm, but there was no way to be certain. That particular spell was a trade secret, much like Ollivander's wandlore.

They stayed up a lot later than was probably wise or responsible, but they didn't care.  
For the first time, they started to give each other a little personal information about themselves, even if it was only in the form of anecdotes.

Eragon spoke about his cousin Roran and how entertaining it had been to see him try so hard to court his sweetheart Katrina. Murtagh had muttered something about him having no room to talk, causing Eragon to hide his embarrassment by hitting Murtagh on the shoulder.

Murtagh gave them a few stories involving his teacher Tornac whom his horse was named after. From the way he talked about him, it quickly became clear that Tornac had been more than his arms teacher, and was probably the closest he had ever had to a father figure in his life. Eragon and Murtagh ended up giving a toast with invisible classes to Brom and Tornac.

Helena gave them a few anecdotes about her old teachers and school, eventually giving up on trying to hide her otherworldly origins from Murtagh, though she wasn't sure if he believed her.  
She even gave them a few stories about her life at the Dursleys. This didn't garner the usual amount of outrage that she usually received on her behalf the few times she had done this in the past. Probably due to life in this world being a lot harder than it was back in her world, and thus – while surprising – her situation didn't seem like anything too strenuous from their point of view, though she never went to deep into the exact feeling (or lack thereof) between her and her _'family'_. Surprisingly, this actually made her more comfortable in talking about it since she hated pity and was embarrassed by sympathy.

When it became so late that their bodies started to protests heavily to the fact that they were still awake, they, happy but exhausted with glowing red cheeks, all crawled under their blankets. The dragons had already taken a nap during their improvised birthday party and would keep watch tonight.

Just before she was about to dose of she heard Eragon softly call out to her. "Helena?

"Mm? Yes Eragon?" she responded tiredly, it really was late.

"Thanks."

* * *

 **AN: If someone wants to volunteer as a beta for me, I would appreciate it. Synthesis pointed some errors out to me before I posted this chapter, but she is busy enough without this I think. Please sent me a PM and I will send you the chapters a few days before I plan to post them. Sure, they will be full of words that are misspelled or just plain missing, and grammar mistakes. But on the other hand: early access!**


	13. Courting disaster

**A thank you to Synthesis for pointing out some spelling mistakes.  
**

* * *

They stood on a hill about a mile away, overlooking the city.  
Gil'ead didn't look so much like a city as a giant military encampment. Even when they had traveled dangerously close to Urû'bean, they hadn't seen as many soldiers as they saw now.

"Why does the empire need such a strong military presence here? Wouldn't it make more sense to place the army closer to Surda? Their closest neighbor?" Helena asked.

"It's because of the threat of the elves. They may have gone into hiding, but that doesn't mean that Galbatorix has forgotten they exist. Any army coming out of Du Weldenvarden would have to pass past Gil'ead. If this place was less defended, the elves could conquer everything north of Urû'bean without the empire being able to muster a response in time," Murtagh explained. "Anyway, I think it's best you two don't go into Gil'ead."

"Why? We can disguise ourselves well enough," Eragon said. "Besides, Dormnad will need prove that we are Riders and that this isn't some trap." He took off his gloves, showing off the gedwëy ignasia on his palm.

"And most people don't even know I am a Rider," Helena pointed out.

During their travels to Gil'ead they had encountered several wanted posters with Eragon's description on them. Helena reasoned that this meant that, while she may have been seen in Eragon's company, only the Ra'zac knew of her status as a Rider, and they apparently hadn't spread the news yet. A few Urgals probably knew, but they would have no reason to tell anyone. Who would listen to them anyway?

"Perhaps," Murtagh said, "But you two are at a much greater risk. Galbatorix wants the two of you badly. If I get captured, I might be able to escape. If any of you get captured they will immediately drag you to the king, and he won't let you out of his sight until you join him–– or die. And don't think that they won't find out about you Helena. The Ra'zac know, and that means the king knows."

"They would have difficulty holding me," she smirked, and then apparated to where Godric was standing some yards away. After her first successful attempt back in Dras-Leona she had, off course, practiced it until she was just as good with it as before her transformation. It required a lot of concentration, so she normally wouldn't be able to use it in the middle of combat to get out of danger or move around with impunity, but if she could get a moments rest, she should be able to escape any situation. She also found that apparating to Godric's location was a lot easier to do than any other location, something that her draconic partner was very happy with.  
Conversely, it was very difficult for her to apparate very far away from him. Apparation required a certain determination or will to want to go to the new location. Since she instinctively recoiled from being far away from Godric, that was very hard to do. The distance from which she could remain in contact with Godric was now several miles long and still increasing; so that was about the bubble in which she could travel freely now. It was for this reason that she hadn't dropped by on Joed to inform him of Brom's death yet. If you can move instantaneously over great distances you sort of lose any excuse not to check in on your friends regularly.

Murtagh shook his head, "Of all the magic I have ever seen in my live, that is the one I am the most envious off."

"I agree," Eragon said wistfully, "If I could do that, then Saphira would probably give me a lot more leeway when it comes to going into danger without her."

"Well it's is difficult to argue with that. I suppose you can come, but stay in your dog form to be sure," Murtagh said.

"If she is going, then I am going," Eragon said firmly.

"Eragon," Helena said, "Please, be reasonable."

"You will not dissuade me from this Helena. I am not letting you go into danger without me."

'I may end up liking him after all,' Godric commented to her.

Helena ignored him and contacted Saphira, 'Can you talk some sense into him?'

'I am trying,' she responded, clearly unhappy. 'He isn't listening.'

"You can take multiple people with you when you teleport right?" Eragon asked her. Helena frowned; no matter how much she called it apparating, Eragon and Murtagh insisted on calling it teleporting.

"Two extra is about the limit that I would be able to do safely, I think," she answered cautiously, "We got lucky last time that _most_ of the horses came through in one piece."

"Then there is no problem, right? If we are discovered, you can get us out," Eragon pointed out. Helena had to admit, he had a point.

She sighed and slumped her shoulders in defeat. "Very well. Just don't stray too far away from me, and I suppose it will be alright."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

So it was that Eragon, Murtagh and Husky (dog Helena) found themselves walking through the streets of Gil'ead.  
Despite its primary military nature, or maybe because of it, Gil'ead did have a rather large section of land dedicated to trading. An army does need resources after all; resources that it doesn't produce by itself.

Unlike the other markets that Helena had visited thus far, Gil'ead's trading district wasn't as tightly cramped together as Teirm's or Dras-Leona's. This seemed mostly due to the fact that Gil'ead didn't seem to actually have a proper border were the city ended. It was almost like Gil'ead was just a giant army that happened to be standing still, and the trading district were merely the camp followers who by necessity had to build some shelter for themselves.

As a dog, Helena had to rely mostly on Eragon and Murtagh to lead the way. Saphira had given them directions to where Dormnad lived, but those were mostly based around visual cues.  
Helena's vision was significantly impaired in her Animagus form. She couldn't see the color red, was so nearsighted that she could barely see further than six feet. To her, everything looked hazy as if looking through a thick fog. Normally that wouldn't be a problem since her sense of smell was so good she normally didn't even _need_ her eyes to move about, but in this case, it was a problem.

Speaking of smell: that particular sense was currently telling her that, aside from her two human friends, the mood in this part of Gil'ead was pretty relaxed. There was a distinct absence off the smell of anxiety and fear, not counting her own companions.

To her instinctual delight, she detected the scent of several other canines in the area. If possible, she would need to convince them not to warn their masters that Eragon and Murtagh don't belong here, not to mention the scent of the most dangerous predator of all that was clinging to them. At least if they were trained for such a thing. If she was lucky, they wouldn't be.

There was sudden spike in Murtagh's anxiety levels, but in her current form she couldn't ask him what was wrong; not without mental communication, which he would rebuff. She instinctively tensed herself for danger, but nothing happened.

Eragon and Murtagh led her to a simple wooden house that smelled of iron, but not off ash or soot. _Not a blacksmith then, but a simple trader of raw materials._ The still human part of her reasoned that this make sense, since a trader would be in an excellent position to send or receive information as a spy. Eragon and Murtagh knocked on the door, but she could already smell that nobody was home.

After waiting for a minute to allow Eragon and Murtagh to come to the same realization she pulled on Eragon's sleeve to indicate that he should follow. She supposed she could try and communicate telepathically, but this was simply more fun.

She easily led her two humans to a place that smelled of alcohol, excitement, and lots and lots of humans.

"He is in there?" Eragon asked.

"Woof!"

"Is that a yes?"

"Woof! Woof!"

"Well… aright then," he said uncertainly, still clearly not understating her, but figuring that simply looking inside was easier than trying to make sense of her woofing.

Eragon and Murtagh both made their way into, what the human part of Helena's mind reasoned, must be a tavern. Eragon and Murtagh approached one of the tables and started talking to what she guessed had to be Dormnad.

She laid herself down, and waited patiently outside the small wooden sign that had a drawing of a dog with a cross over it. The cross was barely distinguishable to her eyes, and Helena guesses it was probably drawn in red or something.  
The human part and instinctual dog part off her mind briefly got into an argument over whether or not they should mark the wooden sign with urine. The human part won that argument.  
She snarled briefly at the few yapping canines that were bound to a small wooden pole outside the establishment, and tried to convey the meaning to them of: 'No. I don't want to mate with you. Stop asking.'

Dormnad soon left the building with Eragon and Murtagh in tow, and they all returned to the simple wooden building that they had just came from. Neither one of them spoke during this time and Helena could smell a great deal of both excitement, anticipation, and fear coming from Dormnad.

Once they were all inside, Helena laid herself down on the floor, not changing back and allowing Eragon and Murtagh to do the explaining. They had agreed beforehand that they would keep her nature a secret; just in case this was a trap and they needed a surprise of their own.

"This had better be important. Who are you?" Dormnad asked them. Nervousness and fear, Helena's senses told her. He hid it well; his voice was even and controlled.

"One moment," said Eragon, and then began to utter words in the Ancient Language. Dormnad's hand went to a knife on his belt, but luckily for all involved, he didn't attack. "There, now we can speak without being overheard." Dormnad relaxed visibly. "I am Eragon"

"Murtagh," Murtagh said simply.

"And this is…. Helena," Eragon said, motioning to dog Helena. She gave quick bark in acknowledgment. "We are here to collect on the depth you own to Undbitr," Eragon spoke the words Saphira had told them to say.

From where she lay she could see Dormnad's eyes widen. "You know Brom?"

"We knew him," Eragon spoke softly.

"Ah," he said, shoulders slumping sadly, "Did he die well?"

"He died protecting me," Eragon said. Helena could both hear and smell his sorrow.

 _He died because I failed to save him,_ Helena thought. No matter how many rational arguments Godric threw at her, she simply could not stop feeling guilty.

"A good death then," Dormnad said. "Only thing you can do is to try and be worthy of that sacrifice lad. Though, that is a tall order; Brom was a great man."

"I know," Eragon said, "He said that you could bring us to the Varden."

Dormnad's eyes narrowed suspiciously, "Brom would not ask me to abandon my post here just to bring you to the Varden. There are easier ways to join them than to ask a very well placed informant to just drop everything to play guide for you."

Eragon calmly removed his glove and showed him the gedwëy ignasia.

Dormnad looked at the mark in astonishment, and then leaned back in his chair, smirking in what Helena guessed was satisfaction.

"It has finally happened, then?" He asked with near palpable excitement.

"Yes," Eragon said simply, Helena could tell he was mildly uncomfortable.

"Then what are we waiting for?" the man said, standing up. "Let's go. The sooner we are on our way, the better."

"Wait," Eragon said. "There is one more thing we need to do before we leave. Do you know if an elf is being kept prisoner here?"

"A elf?" Dormnad asked, looking bewildered. "I don't know, a prisoner that important would be held at The Fort. We don't have any contacts there." He shook his head. "And it doesn't matter."

"What do you mean it doesn't matter?!" Eragon exclaimed.

"With all due respect," Dormnad began. "You shouldn't risk yourself to save a single person, Rider, even an elf," Dormnad said, looking serious, "That elf isn't going to beat Galbatorix; you are."

Eragon's face went expressionless and pale. Helena heart went out to him. She had been there, the last hope of a people, the weight of responsibility, everybody fully expecting you to pull off a miracle for them.

"Brom said that she was important to the elves. She might be instrumental in getting their support, he said," Eragon argued.

"They will have to live with that loss then," Dormnad said, stone faced. "We are currently in the most heavily defended city in the empire, not counting Urû'baen, and that is only because is Galbatorix himself is there. If this elf is here, then she is in The Fort, and that is the most heavily defended place in Gil'ead. It is too dangerous."

"You know, when he puts it like that, this does sound a bit foolhardy," Murtagh said carefully. This wasn't the first or even the second time he tried to talk them out of this.

Eragon shot Murtagh a betrayed look. He opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again, "We can't just do nothing," he said, looking lost.

Helena couldn't suppress a growl at the direction this conversation seemed to be going. Dormnad shot her a nervous glance, "I am just trying to keep your owner alive," he said to her.

He took a deep breath trough his nose, and then he leaned forward, putting his elbows on the table, with his hand making a vague pleading gesture towards Eragon. "Do you have any idea how many people have died, just how many people have been sacrificed, just so that _you–"_ he pointed a thick finger at Eragon's chest. "–could be possible? You are spitting on their sacrifices by risking yourself like this." He shook his head again, and leaned back again "No. We must go to the Varden as soon as possible."

Eragon was quite for some time, looking shocked. Murtagh was looking at Eragon in concern, and Helena was _this_ close to abandoning her disguise and giving this Dormnad a piece of her mind.

Before she could do so however, Eragon stood up and spoke again, his voice harsh and angry, "If I allow this woman to die, when I have a chance to stop it, then what good am I as a rider?" Eragon didn't wait for a response, "I am going to save her."

Even though she wished he hadn't lost his temper, she still approved off his decision. She quickly sent him her feelings of approval.

That was apparently enough for him to calm down and sit himself back on is his chair.

"It is too dangerous," Dormnad repeated again. Helena could tell he was starting to get upset himself.

"I will do this, with or without your help," Eragon said. That small bit off approval from her must have been important to him since his voice was now as calm as a summer breeze, utterly without doubt. "It is the right thing to do."

Once again she connected her mind to Eragon's and conveyed a feeling of pride this time. From his own emotions, she could confirm that her approval meant a great deal to him. _Not like that is actual news,_ she thought uncomfortably. She liked him, but she didn't think she like him as much as he seemed to like her, not yet, and that made her feel guilty.

"By your own words: you don't even know if she is even here," Dormnad scoffed.

"We will have to check then, won't we?" Eragon smiled. She didn't know if it was because of the feelings she sent him or simply just _because_.

Durmnad slumped into his chair and Helena knew they had won the argument. "Very well," he sighed. "How do you intend to do this thing?"

Eragon looked relieved. "We only need to get inside, we have a way out, either by dragon or by magic."

If Helena's magic failed them for some reason, then Godric and Saphira would probably be able to get them out so long as they don't stay around long enough for people to respond.

 _Well. . .,_ Helena started to think, _if this Dormnad is going to help us, then he deserves to know about me. At least the part about me not being a dog. That there are two Riders might be too hard believing without seeing Godric for himself._ She had no doubt that others would be a lot more skeptical than Brom had been.

Mind made up, she changed back into a human woman, causing Dormnad to stumble backwards in his chair and fall of.

She gave him an awkward wave, and a sheepish greeting of "Hi."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"That is unlike any magic I have ever heard off," Dormnad said skeptically. She should probably get used to such reactions. After she had shown herself, she had given a brief overview off all her most important abilities. Again, if he was going to risk his life alongside them and help with the planning then he deserved to know. They had also given him a heavily abridged version of how she ended up traveling with Eragon.

With a sigh, she gave him a demonstration off her Husky transformation and Apparition in the small home.

"With that teleportation ability off yours," Dormnad said speculatively. "this is at last starting to look like something else than assisted suicide."

Murtagh cleared his throat, he looked more awkward and unsure than she had ever seen him. "Well, if that is settled, then I should probably get going."

"What?" "Your leaving?!" "Are you sure?" Dormnad, Eragon and Helena said respectively. He had told them that he wouldn't be following them to the Varden on multiple occasions. This shouldn't come as a surprise…. yet it was.

"I told you, I don't want to fight the empire, and that is exactly what you are planning to do here," Murtagh said. He even sounded somewhat sad about it. "For what it is worth, I wish you luck."

"Wait," Dormnad said, sounding terribly confused. "Then why are you–", he pointed at Murtagh, "–even traveling with him." He pointed at Eragon.

"He helped us during an encounter with the Ra'zac," Eragon said.

"I figured I had better chances escaping as part of a group," Murtagh said, shrugging his shoulders. "But now it seems staying is more dangerous than leaving."

"You are just going to walk away from this," Dormnad still sounded confused, but also somewhat indignant.

Eragon also looked upset, but she suspected had more to do with Murtagh leaving than his choice not to fight. They had grown close during the month they had traveled together. She didn't think he would come out and ask him to stay however; he was too proud.

"It is not my fight," Murtagh said, trying to sound casual, but she could see some turmoil in his eyes.

Everyone was silent, thinking on what to say. Helena searched for words to make him stay, but she couldn't think of anything that would work. She couldn't––no _wouldn't_ force him to.

Dormnad sounded hostile now. "If you are not an enemy of the empire, then how can we know you won't sell us out."

"I want nothing to do with either side," Murtagh said, a hand going through his hair in frustration. "I just want to run away."

"Coward," Dormnad spat. "People like you would do anything to save their own hide. If you sold us out then you could live the comfortable and safe life you so clearly want. So why wou––"

"You know nothing about what I want!" Murtagh snarled. He turned to look at Eragon and Helena, "Can I leave? Or am I a prisoner?"

There was a tense silence for about five seconds. "You can leave," Helena said; they had no right to keep him against his will. Everyone looked at Eragon, who looked uncomfortable, "I wish you would stay," he said softly. "But yes. You can leave."

"This is a mistake," Dormnad said, but he looked resigned. He knew he was outnumbered.

"There is one last thing you should know," Murtagh said, "I think I might have been seen in the streets today by someone who recognized me––"

"You see," Dormnad said, pointing at Murtagh, "He already sold us out."

Eragon and Helena ignored him while Murtagh shot him a look as if he was something dirty that stuck to his boots and continued. "As I was saying," he said through clenched teeth, but then continued as normal, "I might have been recognized by someone I used to know. I don't know; the man showed no sign of recognition, which, if he is indeed the man I remember, is out of character for him. If he did see me though, he is sure to tell someone, I just thought you should know this."

He walked through the door, but paused in the opening, looking back at them. "It was nice traveling with you," he said, and then he was gone.

Helena and Eragon gave at each other in grim look. Neither of them liked this outcome, but there was nothing for it.

"I hope this doesn't come and bite us in the ass," Dormnad said, scowling at them.

"I am sure it won't," Helena said. Even if he didn't want to fight, after traveling together for month he was a sort of friend. He wouldn't sell them out… she hoped.

The three of them spend the remaining hours of the day discussing the best plan to get into the fort. They discussed the viability of creating a distraction, but Dormnad said it might be too obvious.  
Using a magical solution was risky since there were sure to be a lot of magicians in Gil'ead, to protect the soldiers if nothing else.

Eventually they decided it would be best to ambush the guards who would be on watch that night, and impersonate them.  
They would also need to ransack his mind for information on passwords and any other information they might need to be convincing. It left a bad taste in Helena's mouth, but this wasn't about simple revenge. A life was at stake, and these soldiers were _technically_ her enemies.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It was decided that Helena and Eragon would stay the night at Dormnad's house. Ideally they would use the next day to prepare and gathering as much information as possible; perform their prison break near nightfall, and flee under cover of darkness while praying that the Ra'zac weren't anywhere nearby.

Helena was sleeping in her husky form on a soft blanket. They had decided that having her be a surprise could prove useful, not to mention some of her enhanced senses.

Speaking of which. . .

A disgusting smell startled her awake. Now, it should be noted that what she found disgusting in this form was different than what she would normally find disgusting. For example: as a dog, she had always hated the smell of ink; while as a human, she actually found the smell fairly pleasant. The juxtaposition between her two preferences had occasionally confused her.

That said, there was no way this smell could be described as anything but revolting by just about any sane thinking creature. It reminded her of blood and of a decaying corpse, only still alive and yet more _wrong_ somehow. It was unnatural, dark, and just plain _evil_. She guessed that if dementors had a smell – which they didn't – they might smell something like this.

She also felt it coming closer. It wasn't even the increase in scent that told her this. It was just plain animal instinct that something bad was coming closer, and that she _absolutely did not want to be found by it!_

She hurriedly transformed back to normal and shook her two companions awake.

They both gave her some sleepy groans that somehow still managed to convey: 'Why did you wake us?'.

"Something bad is coming." she whispered harshly. "Gather your stuff; we need to get out of here. Please hurry."

Thankfully, they didn't question her and they both quickly gathered what little they couldn't do without. They had already packed all they needed for when they would leave the next day, so it didn't take long. Despite them not taking even half a minute to get ready, she still felt it was taking too long because she wanted to go _now_. She kept on shooting nervous looks at the front door as if death itself was going to walk in at any moment. Her own sense of unease and fear apparently woke Godric up and he hurriedly asked her what was wrong. She communicated the sensations that she had picked up and told him that he could soon expect them to apparate to his location.

Dormnad approached her with a large backpack slung over his shoulder. "Alright I think this is––"

He was interrupted by a heavy knocking on the door. "Greetings," she heard a smooth silky voice say and Helena felt herself freeze up and grow cold with goose bumps covering her skin. "I am glad to hear you are awake." Helena motioned for Eragon and Dormnad to come closer. "In the name of our good king," _was that a trace of sarcasm?_ "let me in. Don't worry; I only want to ask a few questions."

She allowed her own sense of location to be replaced by Godric's and disapparated.

She landed on her feet in the small clearing that they had left the horses in, though she had to steady both Dormnad and Eragon to prevent them from falling. Both Saphira and Godric were present.

Dormnad looked wide-eyed and open-mouthed from Saphira to Godric, "te–te–two," he stammered.

Helena offered him an apologetic smile. "Sorry. We didn't think you would believe us without seeing it for yourself."

"What was that back there?" Eragon asked; ignoring Dormnad who still stood gaping.

"I don't know," she grimaced. "I just know we want to stay far away from it."

"We only ever rescued one egg," Dormnad said nervously, "So how?"

"I don't know," Helena said honestly.

"If one of the remaining two eggs hatched without being stolen first," Dormnad said slowly, "and Galbatorix just let you go then that means. . ."

 _It means that the only explanation is that I am already working for Galbatorix,_ she finished his thought in her mind.

Eragon seemed to also realize what he was implying. "Brom trusted her."

"He did, did he?" Dormnad mumbled. Helena thought he was talking more to himself than them at this point, and allowed him some time to get his thoughts in order.

"Alright," he said eventually, "I'll play along." He laughed nervously. "You two are obviously on the same side, and if that side isn't us. We are doomed regardless."

"We are not trying to trick you," Eragon said tersely.

"I'll will believe that for now," Dormnad responded, "So what now?"

"We still need to check the keep," Eragon said.

Dormnad gave him a dry look, "Even now? With something that can give miss dog over there," he pointed his thumb at Helena, "the shivers?"

"Maybe it won't be active in the day," she said with a weak smile, though she knew that was unreasonably optimistic. "Anyway, I doubt it can just walk around in Gil'ead with impunity. Everyone will be able to tell that this thing is isn't natural, the soldiers would probably attack it if it showed itself openly."

"You really don't know what it is?" Eragon asked.

"No," she tried to remember the feeling and found it difficult to put into words, "It felt _wrong_ somehow; It shouldn't exist."

Eragon frowned "Could it be a shade?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "I wouldn't know." She adopted a thoughtful look. "Whatever it is, I think I will be able to give us plenty of warning if it approaches."

And that was that.

The three of them made their way back into Gil'ead to prepare for their maybe-rescue in the evening.

This was mostly done by Dormnad since he knew the city better than either of them, and also simply had more experience when it came to information gathering like this. Eragon mostly helped by mentally prying certain people for information on Dormnad's request, and occasionally casting some spell to prevent prying ears.

Helena's duty was to always keep track of where the creature that had spooked them earlier was, mostly by sent. By now she was sure that the thing was walking around Gil'ead, but seemed to actively avoid the most populous areas. It was incredibly nerve-racking to have to hide from something while you don't even know what that _something_ is.

Few things are scarier than when you know you are being hunted, but you don't know by what; only that it is close, very dangerous, and your gut is telling you that it is _stronger_ than you.

More than once she had to apparate the three of them to some previous location when she guessed that the thing had somehow caught their trail. While this always successfully shook of their pursuit, it also made Helena lose track of the things location. After that it was always a tense struggle to make sure that she discovered Its location before it discovered theirs. All the local dogs of Gil'ead – there were surprisingly many of them – were a great help. They too could sense that something was stalking the city _that did not belong_ , and had no problem giving her warning when they could.

When the sun started to set, they were at last ready for their foray into The Fort.

It was a massive building. At least one-fifth of Gil'ead was made up of just that fort. She suspected that in an emergency it could house the population off Gil'ead plus the surrounding countryside with room to spare. It was obvious that it was the reason that Gil'ead didn't need walls outside of this one building

By careful questioning, they had already discovered that the prison was – contrary to cliché – not in the dungeon, but somewhere in the highest point of the tower. _Wait, damsel in distress, locked up in a high tower? Perhaps it is somewhat cliché after all. Now if only this woman turns out to a princess it would be perfect,_ Helena thought wryly to herself. _It makes sense, though. This way potential escaping prisoners would have to get past several floors of soldiers._  
From what she could see from the ground, the small openings in the walls that past for windows were too small to jump or climb out of, even if a prisoner would be willing to risk that.

When it was dark enough to not be seen by anyone that wasn't actively looking for them, the dragons would start circling the city from up high in case something went wrong and Helena's magical escape route failed them.

Right at this moment they were approaching the small barrack/house where they knew they would find the soldiers whom they also knew were scheduled to report to an officer somewhere in the upper floors. After they had knocked them out, the plan was for Dormnad and Eragon to take their place so they would have an excuse to get in. Not to mention that it would also give them a excuse to be armed and armored in case they would need to fight.  
The huge number of soldiers in Gil'ead actually worked to their advantage here, since it was impossible for anybody to know all their comrades.

Dormnad knocked on the door. There could hear a slight commotion from behind the door, followed by footsteps, and finally the unlocking of the door.

"I am sorry, I––"

Dormnad unceremoniously knocked him out with a painful looking right hook. Eragon immediately crouched down to cast a spell that would hopefully keep him unconscious for a long time. Five more soldiers moved out of a door down the hall, dressed in casual clothes, but with swords drawn. The moment they saw them they cried out: "Attack! We are under Attack!" It was for naught however, before Dormnad had even knocked on the door, Eragon had already cast a spell to make sure no sound could escape this building.

It was four more soldiers that they were expecting though. According to the information they gathered during the day, only two soldiers normally lived here. It was just bad luck – for all involved – that they appeared to have visitors this night. Two soldiers they could take by surprise, five (six if you count the one who opened the door) not so much.

Now, Eragon was a very good swordsman – probably better than any of the soldiers individually – but numbers mattered, and from the way they seamlessly spread out to attack from all sides at once – as far as the small space allowed - Helena feared they were trained to work together.

Eragon, and Dormnad were immediately put on the defensive, and Helena knew they couldn't hold out for long, let alone win; not without more magic that would tire Eragon. Besides, they were already in close range where it was difficult for him to gather his wits to think of a spell. She herself stood a little way back from the fighting. It galled her to let others take the greater risk, but she had to play to her strengths.

She attacked one of the soldiers that was exchanging blows with Eragon with the mental equivalent of a sucker punch. The soldier obviously wasn't trained in this form of combat, and Helena effortlessly slipped into his mind.

 _'Wh–wh–What is this,'_ she 'heard' him think in a panic.

Seemingly by instinct or reflex, Eragon capitalized on the soldiers stunned state – Helena now knew his name was Gerath – and slashed Za'roc across his throat.  
Since she was still in Gerath's mind, she felt his pain as her own. She felt the cold metal effortlessly slice through flesh just as he did. She felt the warm blood flow across her neck. She absently noted that she – was it she or he? It was difficult to be sure – had fallen on the floor gurgling blood.

 _'I–I am dead,'_ she felt him realize with dawning horror, horror both his and of her own. _'These bastards they – argh no!'_ she saw an image of a beautiful red-haired girl - Fiona - shyly clutching at the skirts of a woman who was probably in her late twenties. That woman's – Cella's – hair was of a slightly lighter red than the girl.

 _'I can't die here!'_ she heard him think frantically, but they both knew it was hopeless. She felt his body grow cold as if it was her own, and his mind slowly fading into darkness, despite his determination not to let it do so. His last thoughts in this world wasn't so much in the form of words as it was a feeling of absolute hate, cursing his killers with all the clarity of thought he had left.

When she returned to her own body she noticed that she was also lying on the floor. Judging by the taste in her mouth she must have thrown up at some point. . . _Yes there it is,_ she thought absently, as she noticed her vomit a few centimeters from her face.

She felt someone shake her shoulders. When she looked up she saw Eragon's concerned face. He looked almost as bad as she felt. His face was as pale as a skeleton's.

Dornad's voice was sympathetic. "I guess this is your first time killing someone?" She didn't say anything. She may have killed Voldemort, but it was hard to feel bad about that, and even in that case he died to his own reflected spell. This was different. Even though she didn't strike the killing blow, this was as close to directly killing someone as she had ever gotten, not counting Voldemort. And this wasn't an evil man who deserved to die, but just some guy doing his job, and she had _felt_ him die! She had been adamant to go through with this venture since a life was at stake, but now a life was lost. _More than one,_ she noted. Another man had a hole in his chest where she knew the heart was. He had lost so much blood that it was impossible for him to still be alive. She knew that this had always been a possibility but still. . .

Eragon nodded tiredly to Dormnad. Helena knew that he had killed Urgals before, but he didn't seem to count those. To be honest, Helena didn't know if Urgals _should_ be counted. She had no idea how intelligent they were.

Dormnad laid a hand on Eragon's shoulder. "You did well lad. You didn't freeze. And don't worry, it will get easier." It might not have been intended that way, but she felt slightly insulted since she obviously _did_ freeze.

 _Besides, this should never get easier,_ she thought scathingly.

Dormnad and Eragon began stripping two of the guards of their uniform. It was why they had come here after all. Helena was already dressed in a simple servant's uniform that they had stolen earlier in the day. She noticed that Eragon's fingers were trembling, but she felt no inclination to offer comforting words; she was still too much of a mess herself.

In the meantime, Helena decided it was best to disguise the…. crime scene. Vanishing the remains would probably be best, but _they_ deserved to have something to burry. On the other hand, the many dogs in Gil'ead will most certainly be able to smell all that blood, not to mention the corpse itself. She most certainly wouldn't have any problem smelling this from a mile away in her husky form once the smell spread that far.

"Eragon, how much would it tax you to use magic to keep all the smell from going outside like you do sound?" She asked. She did have a spell to remove unpleasant smells, but unless she stayed here it would be a temporary solution.

"Not much I think," Eragon muttered. He was still busy with undressing one of their captives, "but as soon as I leave, the distance would become a problem." _Of course, distance would increase how much energy he would need to expend to keep it up._

Helena bit her lip while looking around, trying to think of a solution. In the end she hid the two corpses in a nearby closet, locked it tight with a locking charm, slapped a Notice-Me-Not charm on it, and just hoped for the best. She made sure not to forget to remove the lingering sent that had already spread, though she couldn't do anything about the sent that had already moved outside the house.

When they were done, and Eragon and Dormnad were properly disguised – they had fake beards and everything – and after they had probed their targets for information on the proper passwords, Helena slipped back into her husky form. They had decided it would be best for her to stay in this form in case she could smell the elf. She didn't think it likely since she had no idea what an elf was supposed to smell like, but it was possible.

She was grateful to be in this form, however. Animals feel emotions just like humans do, especially the mammals, but they usually handle it better than humans. It was with an incredible amount of relief that she allowed the instincts of the dog to take over, and allowed her human mind to rest for a while.

She paid very little attention to her companions as they snuck into the fort, focusing entirely on her simple of task of trying to locate the elf. Godric had by now sensed her distress, but he didn't really know what to say to make her feel better, assuming anything could. Godric was a natural predator and he didn't understand her dilemma with taking lives, especially when they charged at her group with the intent to capture or kill.

With their preparations, they successfully made their way to the top floors without much issue. Helena decided to follow a scent of blood that she had picked up on, and led them to one of the western towers by traveling over one of the battlements. Her best guess was that this would lead them to a torture chamber of some kind, with the prison hopefully being close by.

When she got closer she started to pick up on a familiar sent. _So much for being safer on his own_ , she thought wryly.

They heavily suspected that this part of fort would have much better security than the rest of the fort, so they waited until the watches changed before they went any further. They had some rough guesses on when those changes occurred and had tried to time their mission accordingly. Thankfully, they got lucky and they didn't need to wait more than a few minutes.

With the element of surprise Helena was able to hit them both with a full body-bind curse before they knew they were under attack. Both Eragon and Dormnad were ready to attack them with bows in case they were protected by wards. Luckily this didn't turn out to be necessary. Either they weren't warded or they weren't warded against things that didn't do any _direct_ harm. They both became as stiff as a board, and fell backwards against the wall like pushed over statues, eyes darting about wildly.

From a distance they still looked to be guarding the entrance so hopefully this would buy them a little time. They would be discovered the moment someone passed by here however, so they had to hurry.

When they entered the tower they found it much darker than the rest of The Fort. Torches were scarce and the dim light combined with all the iron doors gave it a sinister look. Iron-bound doors blocked their view of all the– what they guessed, were cells. There were small square windows in all the doors that she guessed could slide open and shut to talk to prisoners inside. Not being able to ascertain the identity of the prisoners by looking inside they had to rely doubly on Helena's nose. Under his breath, Dormnad grumbled something that sounded like: "Waste of time."

Helena followed the familiar sent that she had picked up and led them to an iron door that didn't look any different from the others.

"Is this were the elf is?" Eragon asked her.

She turned back into a human, but before she could say anything they heard a hoarse voice behind the closed door. "Eragon! Is that you?"

"Murtagh?" Eragon said in surprise, "What are you doing here?"

"Regretting my poor life choices," he answered with a pained voice. "Can you get me out of here?"

Helena shot a look at Dormnad, half expecting him to object, but he simply shrugged his shoulders. Thankfully, a simple unlocking charm was enough to unlock the door. Before the door was even fully pushed open, Murtagh slipped past the small opening, obviously eager to escape his captivity.

He had clearly seen better days. His face looked horribly bruised, and his clothes looked both torn and were red with dried blood.

"Urgals," Murtagh said by way of explanation. "They ambushed me in the night. It seems they are working for the empire now."

Dormnad cursed. "As if things weren't difficult enough." He looked Murtagh over. "Can you keep up?"

"I'll manage," Murtagh said, despite his obvious wounds. He seemed to be favoring one leg. "I was still conscious when they brought me here. I caught a brief look of this elf you are looking for, she was being carried somewhere in that direction." Murtagh pointed further down the hall.

As they raced in the pointed direction Helena – once again a husky – was able to discover a very faint sent of fresh pine needles. It was so faint that she would have missed it if it didn't stand out so much amidst the smell of blood, pain and hopelessness that permeated this place, and yes, those last two had an actual smell associated with them.

"We need to hurry," Murtagh said, "there is a Shade in the area. He brought me here after the Urgals captured me."

"That answers what we have been hiding from this whole time," she heard Eragon say.

The sent trail led them to the end of a hallway, in front of an inconspicuous looking cell that didn't look any different from the others. Without delay, Helena transformed again and tried to unlock the door with magic and immediately encountered resistance.

She grimaced. "This door is warded."

"Then, we need to find the keys," Eragon said.

 _Not necessarily,_ Helena thought, she was still trying to use her magic to unlock the door. "The wards have to get their energy from somewhere. Since my form of magic is inexhaustible I should be able to break through, given time."

"There is no time," Dormnad snapped. "It won't be long until we are discovered. We must––"

"I am afraid it is far too late for that," an amused voice that she had heard once before echoed down the hall.

At the first sound of his voice they all turned around in alarmed surprise to look upon a tall red haired _'man'_. He was grinning at them with his upper teeth visible. Helena noted that his teeth were pointed like the canine tooth. His skin was so translucent that she could see the bone and blood vessels underneath. A thin naked sword with a long scratch that ran down the blade hung loosely at his waist.

Starting from the end of the hall he was walking unhurriedly towards them, obviously in no real hurry. The dim torchlight of the hall making him look even more creepy.

Eragon and Dormnand both drew their swords. Murtagh also reached for his hip, but cursed when he realized he was unarmed.

Helena also cursed herself for not noticing him before he found them. She was sure that this was the creature that they had been hiding from this whole day. The general smell of blood of this place must have masquerades his own. They were also indoors, so the wind didn't carry scent very fast here.

From Brom's description she indeed recognized this thing as a Shade. When he had been quizzing them on possible scenarios and how to deal with them, Shades had come up more than once. According to Brom, the best answer for fighting a shade is: "Don't! They are both much faster and stronger than you. They also have a capacity for magic to rival even the strongest of riders. Run away If you can."

She shot a glance at the locked prison door. _They were so close!_

"We have to leave!" Dormnad snapped. "We can't fight him, we can come back later if you must."

Helena and Eragon shot each other an uncertain glance.

"More soldiers are probably already on their way," Murtagh whispered. He also was clearly in favor of leaving.

"You appear under the impression that I am just going to let you go," the words came out as almost a purr, the shades maroon eyes twinkled in amusement.

Helena cursed, and grabbed Murtagh and Dormnad by the arm. Eragon quickly grabbed her own arm in anticipation. They disappeared in a swirl of air and. . . slammed right into a barrier. They all bounced back into normal space, landing in tangled heap of limbs.

It didn't feel like the wall she slammed into when she tried to jump dimensions. It didn't feel nearly as strong, but it was still more than enough to stop her.

"You know," the Shade said in a conversational manner, "I am getting really tired of my targets just disappearing on me like that."

Again, Helena cursed herself for a fool; she should have known the magic off the Ancient Language would be capable of stopping her from apparating. As long as you had both the words and the power, it appeared to capable of almost anything.

'Godric,' she reached out with her mind, finding her partner's mind without too much trouble. He was currently flying circles over the city. _'_ We need your help. Saphira too'.

'Try and move the fight to one of the open battlements,' he said, 'We can't just break through solid stone like that.'

 _Easier said than done,_ she grimaced, they were at a dead end and the Shade was blocking the only way out.

In the event that you had no choice but to fight a shade, Brom had advised that your best hope was to overwhelm them with numbers, if possible. He had said: "No matter how fast or strong someone is, their blade cannot be in five places at the same time."

She doubted they were numerous enough to overwhelm him, though. Murtagh wasn't even armed.

"I'll distract him, while you guys slip past him," Eragon whispered to her, "It's me that he wants."

"Don't be silly," Dormnad whispered back harshly, "I am the expendable one."

"I can escape later," Eragon shot back, "You, he would just kill."

"They don't know my abilities," Helena muttered under her breath, "I have a better chance of escaping than any of you. I should stay."

"Actually, I see no reason why I can't just collect all four of you," the shade grinned and drew his sword. He evidently had no problem hearing their whispered conversation. He had already crossed half the distance between them.

"Together then," Dormnad said, voice steady and face resolute. Eragon nodded, and together they charged.

For a brief instant Helena was tempted to charge with them, but she knew she would be of more use using her other abilities. Next to her Murtagh clenched his first in frustration, obviously wanting to help, but not daring to while he didn't have a weapon.

A few moments before the combatants met she slammed her own mind into that of the Shade, hoping to stun him like she did earlier to Gerath.

She didn't even bother trying to attack him with magic directly. She had no doubt he had wards around himself, and she didn't want to provoke him since they didn't have that same protection. Brom had never gotten around to teaching it to Eragon. She suspected that he hadn't taught it because he wanted Eragon _not_ to fight a magician's duel for as long as possible, fearing that wards would make him underestimate the dangers of it, but there was no way to be sure.

The mind that met her attack was unlike anything she had ever encountered. It was too different for her to make any guesses as to its age or nature. Its alien nature made it difficult for her to break into its conscience. She could tell she was stronger than it, but not by much.

To Helena's surprise the Shade's performance didn't seem to be effected by her attack. He danced between Eragon and Dormnad's attack as easily as Brom did hers when she had first tried to use a blade. He made them look like children in comparison. It shouldn't be possible; the mind she was fighting had to use all of its mental capacity just to keep her at bay. It shouldn't have any attention to spare to fight as well it did.

Helena's question was answered a few seconds later, when the Shade pushed back Eragon and Dormand, giving himself a small moments rest, though he didn't seem to need it.

It was at that moment that a second conscious stabbed at her own like hot iron poker. A cry of pain escaped from her mouth as her mind fled from the two minds that were now attacking her in unison. _That's how it can both fight me mentally, and the others physically,_ she realized, _Multiple minds._

She didn't know how many minds were in that one body, just that it was two or higher. She could fight and perhaps even beat one of them, but even two was too much for her.

The shade looked at her curiously, "A most curious mind you have there," he said, tilting his head slightly, "All of this fighting is so unnecessary," he spread his arms in a harmless gesture, though the sword still in his hands rather diminished the effect. "Why don't you two," he casually pointed his blade at Helena and Eragon. "Join me. With my teachings we will be able to defeat Galbatorix himself."

 _Does he know I am a rider? Or is he simply curious after touching my mind._

Neither Helena nor Eragon deigned that offer worthy of a response.

After ten seconds of tense silence the shade sighed in disappointment. "A pity." He jumped at Dormnad, even faster than he was previously. Dormnad barely got his blade up in time to parry his thrust, but the sheer force behind his blade knocked the other blade out of the way. Eragon made to attack the shade, but the creature backhanded his face with his free hand, causing Eragon to fall to the ground.

With a twirling motion of his blade that didn't serve any purpose except to show off, the Shade's blade sliced through Dormnad's neck, sending his head rolling over the ground. His body falling limply to the floor, a pool of blood spreading outwards from his open neck.

A feeling of cold rage and fear went through Helena, and her magic responded to her emotions. The moment she sensed what was happening she forced her magic back down in an alarm. She couldn't lose control now!

During her momentary lapse in concentration, Murtagh had picked up Dormnad's sword that had been sent flying in his direction. He held it in a ready guard position. What he hoped to do with it, Helena had no idea. They couldn't beat this thing physically.

 _Then again, it is not like I am any better._ She took out her staff and ran to stand beside Murtagh and Eragon, holding it at the bottom so she had maximum reach. _If I can successfully do the weight increasing trick, I might be able to surprise him and do some damage._ It was a long shot, but she couldn't think of anything better. There was nothing in the area that she could throw at him with magic beside a few torches, even if she was willing to provoke him to use magic in turn. Attempting to collapse the building was likely to do more damage to them than the Shade.

"You still do not realize it do you?" the shade taunted. Quick as a snake he darted towards them. Moving his sword again with one hand, he intercepted Murtagh's downward slash, catching the edge of the slashing blade in the guard of his own sword. With a slight twist of his wrist, he was also able deflect Eragon's flanking attack from the right, catching Zar'roc edge with the flat side of his own blade.

With the one hand he still had free he caught Helena's staff coming from the left. She had succeeded in increase the weight behind her attack, but it wasn't enough. Her staff met his hand with a loud slapping sound that echoed down the hall. The shade gave a painful his, but didn't let go of her staff.

With two quick steps he knocked Helena's feet from under her, landing her hard on her back, panting for breath. In that same movement he brought his elbow against Murtagh's face, sending him tumbling back against the wall as well. With a twirl of his blade, and a jerk backwards he had also sent Zar'roc flying backwards and away.

The _'fight'_ had taken a total of two seconds.

"Enough of this," the shade scoffed, throwing Helena's staff to the side. "You clearly stand no chance," he looked at Helena lying at his feet, "Slytha."

Just like back in Teirm Helena felt the rigid but powerful magic of the Ancient Language punch against her mind. Helena reconsider the word that he used as meaning 'sleep'. Desperately, she incanted, "Enervade!" forcing her own magic inward. She had never used this spell like this, and didn't even know whether it was possible. The reviving spell is usually never used before one is unconscious. It was meant as a cure not a preventive measure. She also wasn't using it like a single burst of power like normally, but rather a continuous stream of magic to push against the influence of the Shade's magic. She had never used her magic in such a way before, the closest equivalent being her experience with the _Priori Incantatem_ effect, but Helena had always done her best work under pressure.

It worked; she was able to keep the Shade's magic at bay and cling to conscious.

Through the haze of concentration that was required to keep up her resistance she realized that the Shade might have just made a _huge_ mistake.

He had cast the spell 'sleep' on her, and this spell would now keep drawing energy from the Shade until its goal was fulfilled. As long as her concentration remained unbroken, she could theoretically keep this up forever. The Shade on the other hand would eventually run out of energy.

Helena and the Shade looked at each other; her gaze focused, his impassive. Eragon stood a few feet away looking between the two of them, uncertain of what to do. As the seconds slowly passed the Shade's expression shifted first to interested, then slowly into disbelieve.

Helena bolted; he had clearly noticed something was wrong. Besides, distance between them would increase the amount of energy he would need to use. Luckily, running didn't require much actual focus, it was mostly an automatic motor function for her.

The Shade immediately turned to run after her, but the moment he turned his back, Eragon jumped him, clinging to him like a limpet.

Even with Eragon doing everything he could to slow him down, the Shade was still able to keep up with her. He wasn't gaining on her though, so the Shade made a sudden movement towards to wall, slamming Eragon shoulder against the hard stone. He fell towards the floor with a cry of pain.

Helena didn't see any of this. Her gaze was in front of her, barely able to keep track of her surroundings with her magic requiring her constant focus.

She did notice that the Shade's running footsteps were drawing closer, and put even more effort into running away; still the Shades running footsteps grew closer.

With an idea born out of fear she went into Murtagh's open cell once she saw it, and slammed the door shot. She balanced herself horizontally into the air, her hands against the cell door and her feet to the opposing wall, being very grateful that this cell was so small and that this door opened inwards.

Something heavy slammed against the door, straining Helena's muscles to keep the door closed. For about half a minute, the Shade kept slamming himself against the door, every time accompanied by a howl of rage. Helena could tell that the force of each push was slightly weaker than the previous one.

When Helena noticed that she no longer needed to try very hard to keep the door closed against the pushes she allowed herself to relax slightly, only to be nearly shocked out of her concentration when a pale blade pierced trough the wooden door, the point of the blade stopping less than half an inch away from her eye. She only just barely managed to not lose control of her magic and keep up the stream of resistance.

After only a few more moments after the sword was trust, the magic pushing against her mind stopped abruptly.  
It was like the Shade and her had been pulling on a rope, with the Shade pulling towards 'sleep' and she towards 'awake'. With the Shades pull stopping so suddenly, Helena did the equivalent off pulling the rope uncontrollably to her side and falling on her back. All of a sudden her mind was so _'awake'_ that every sensation was magnified so hard it became painful. There was a high pitched beeping noise in her ear, flashes of light danced in her eyes. The shock of it made her fall on the floor, the pain of hitting the stone floor being magnified several folds.

The painful sense of hyper awareness slowly faded, and her mind now felt painful, sluggish, and slow. She awkwardly climbed to her feet and pulled the door open. She slowly dragged herself back to her friends, on the way she started to taste blood on her tongue, and noticed that her nose was bleeding.

Soon she encountered Eragon. He was gingerly holding his upper arm. "You're alive." He breathed an audible sigh of relief, "The Shade?"

"Dead. I hope," she said, "How are you?"

"I think I dislocated my shoulder," he said with a painful grimace. "Saphira says she and Godric are keeping the soldiers out of this tower, but we need to hurry."

She nodded, and together they got back to Murtagh as fast as their injured bodies allowed. They encountered him before they got back to Arya's cell. His lips were split and blood was leaking from his mouth. That was on top of the bruises he already had before the fight began. He probably looked the worst of all of them.

"We won," she said simply and kept on walking towards the cell. They had worked too hard, and one of them had died; she weren't going to give up now.

One simple 'alohomora' was now enough to open the door. _The Shade must have been powering the wards,_ she reasoned.

The woman in the cell would probably be considered beautiful under any other circumstances. She was dressed in simple rags, her face was covered in dirt and scabs; her hair probably hadn't been washed in weeks.

Helena found herself feeling oddly resentful of the woman. _Some good people died to save you,_ she thought. _I hope you are worth it._ As soon as the thought occurred to her she felt guilty. _How many people have died for my sake over the years? I certainly can't have been worthy of that much sacrifice._

After shooting one last regretful look at Dormnad's corpse. _He didn't even want to be here,_ she thought _._ Eragon and Murtagh – being the strongest of the three – carried the woman between their shoulders back towards the walkway between the towers where Saphira and Godric were fighting to keep the soldiers from overrunning them.

After giving a mental warning to the dragons, she raised her hand and yelled "Bombarda!". A bright flash of red light illuminated the night for a moment and blasted the middle of the walkway apart. The ground shook with the force of the explosion. A cloud of dust particles blocked their view from the soldiers on the other side and vice versa.

After Eragon, with the help of Murtagh, secured the unconcerned Arya to Saphira's saddle she and Eragon took off.

After giving a token protest, Godric allowed Murtagh to fly on him alongside her. He set himself behind her with his arms around her waist.

'You know Godric?' she asked as she allowed herself to lean into his warm neck, finally feeling safe again for the first time in hours.

'What is it?' he asked.

She looked down at Gil'ead, half the population seemed to have gotten out of bed to see what all the fuss was about. It may be dark, but the night was cloudless and the moon was half full and shone bright enough that she had no doubt they could all see the two dragons flying in the sky.  
 _  
_'I think our period of anonymity is now officially over.'

 **AN:  
Yes, I nerved Apparation to restrict distance. It would be too OP otherwise, even with a counter existing.  
Has anyone noticed that dogs only ever appear in cities were the empire's influence is strong. The empire is also the only one that uses them on occasion. At the same time: dragons and elves are described as being feline, cats are said to have curious minds, and we even have a sentient race of cats running around. What with the cat bias? Yes, my family may own a cat, and she is nice enough, but you have to admid, dogs are more usefull.**  
 **I would like a moment of silence for Dormnad. In canon, he was an excellent plot device to make Eragon go were the plot needed him to be.  
Not sure if Rider is supposed to be capitalized, so I am just doing what feels right to me whenver it comes up, even if it isn't consistent. Sorry if that is confusing.  
Brom not teaching Eragon wards could be considered a plot hole since it seems really out of charackter for him to miss that, but since it was in the books, I hope to get away with it. I think it was a rezult of Chrispher Paolini invinting the rules of magic as he went.  
Also, in canon, the Shade got beaten by an arrow to the head from an archer THAT HE HE COULD SEE! No. . . just. . . just, no. If Eragon can snatch a arrow out of the air while on dragon back post Blood Oath celibration, and this Shade is on a level with that, then no. I don't buy that. He could dodge that.**  
 **Edit: I have now found a beta in 'CerealReader'.**


	14. So what do we do now?

**Special thanks to CerealReader for helping me polish this into something** ** **resembling** proper English.**

* * *

Everything had been happening so fast that Helena didn't know that Godric had been wounded until they had already left the city far behind, and that was only because Murtagh pointed it out to her. She could see at least two arrow shafts protruding from his wings.

'I'm fine,' he had said when she brought it up. If Godric was anything like her then that could mean anything from 'I am perfectly healthy' to 'I am barely still conscious'.

Realizing that she could just check for herself, she slowly deepened the bond between them, allowing her to actually feel what Godric was feeling. Godric beat his wings into the air, and Helena winced in pain.

Godric gently but firmly removed her mind from his. 'I can handle it for now.'

Thankfully they didn't need to travel very far. They had left the horses a little over three miles away from the city.

They landed in a small clearing that was hidden, lying between two large hills and blocked from sight by a relatively large rock formation. If it wasn't for the dragons always keeping a lookout for good places to hide, they likely would never have spotted it.

Murtagh smoothly managed to slide out of the saddle behind her, which was surprising since this was his first time dismounting from a dragon's back. Some yards away from her, Eragon seemed to have some trouble doing the same, likely due to his dislocated shoulder. From where she sat she could see that Saphira was wounded too.

"I'll heal the dragons. They look like simple flesh wounds; I can do those." she said. "Can you take care of that shoulder yourself?"

Eragon nodded. "I think so."

She came closer, examined Godric's wings and grimaced, "I need to remove the arrow. I can either enlarge the wound and pull it out by the shaft or drive it all the way through the other side instead." She didn't know what would be better.

'It is going to hurt regardless,' Godric said, _'_ just do whatever gets it done faster.'

Concerned, she asked, 'You want me to knock you unconscious first?'

'No,' he said succinctly, 'Just keep some distance. I don't want to hurt you by jerking.' _  
_  
She took a few steps back and focused her power on moving the arrow back the way it had come from, trying to make sure to move the arrow as a whole and not simply pull on the wooden shaft, lest it break behind the arrowhead.

Godric roared in pain, the sound making Helena feel like a thousand small needles were piercing her skin. The wound was bleeding heavily now. Originally she had planned to remove all the arrows first, but that thought was now forgotten. Disregarding his warning not to come closer, she rushed closer to Godric and held her hand over the bleeding wound. "Episkey," she incanted.

'Episkey', was the most basic of healing charms that existed and, sadly, the only one she had ever learned to use safely. She saw it as like the 'Reparo' of the flesh, only much more difficult. She knew there were better and more powerful healing spells like 'Vulnera Sanentur', but she had never learned them.

Helena saw the wound slowly disappear before her eyes. It didn't knit itself back together; instead it was like time itself was reversing the flesh to what it had been before the arrow pierced it. She guessed that might be exactly what it did. She knew that older wounds were a lot harder to heal with this spell than fresh ones.

Godric's pain also immediately vanished the moment she felt the spell working its magic. _Probably due to the increased intent factor,_ she guessed. She didn't want Godric to be in pain so that effect got added to the spell.

She had to repeat the procedure three more time on Godric, and after that she did the same for Saphira, who had only two arrow wounds. For some reason, healing her was more difficult than healing Godric. She guessed that it was likely due to her increased familiarity with Godric's body. Healing magic became easier the more familiar you were with both the normal state of the body and the malady. Godric and she had had, on a few occasions, mixed their minds so much that it was difficult to tell whose body they were actually in. She thought she was almost as familiar with his body as she was with her own – if not it's exact functions. It was no substitute for actually knowing something about cellular biology, but it was something.

"You can't stay here," Murtagh spoke up, "Gil'ead isn't that far away. Even in the night, soldiers will be looking for us." He took a few steps backwards so that he could look at Helena and Eragon together. "You should leave the horses behind; they will never catch you if you do."

Helena looked at Murtagh carefully. He was dressed in nothing but the rags he wore when they found him in his cell. His feet were bare, and he was holding Dormnad's naked sword. Bruises still covered his face, and a scab had started forming on his forehead where he had hit the stone wall when the Shade got him with an elbow strike. A line of dried blood went down from the wound to his chin. His shoulders where slumped, and if Helena had to describe his expression, she would say he looked defeated.

It was telling that he had said 'You can't stay here' and not 'We can't stay here'.

Eragon seemed to have noticed it too. "What about you?"

"I walked away remember?" Murtagh laughed bitterly, "I thought I was safer on my own so I left. You were about to do something dangerous and I left. With Helena's instantaneous travel method, I thought you would be safe, but still… Why would you still want me around?" he raised his hand in a helpless gesture, "I have no horse anymore. I told Tornac to run when I knew I couldn't escape the Urgals. I have no money or possessions except for this sword that I took from a dead man." He looked them carefully in the eye. "At this point I am a liability."

"You saved my life from the Ra'zac," Eragon protested.

"You payed that debt by getting me out of prison; we are even now. You have no reason to help me anymore."

Helena and Eragon looked at each other with identical baffled expressions.

"Ehm," Eragon said, "I don't think that is how it works."

"Friends don't need a _reason_ to help each other," Helena said seriously.

"Friends also don't walk away from friends when they are about to do something dangerous," Murtagh pointed out.

"Look we can argue about this later. _We,_ " Eragon said, putting emphasis on the word 'We' _,_ "need to get away from here before the soldiers arrive." He motioned towards Murtagh, "You can argue about why we aren't friends after we are safe."

Murtagh still looked rebellious.

"He does have a point about leaving the horses behind though," Helena said before Murtagh could say anything more, "Godric and Saphira are each capable of carrying two people. If we just fly away, there is no way for them to track us."

Eragon looked pained, "Snowfire was Brom's horse."

"The soldiers will probably find him. I am sure they will take care of him." She knew that in the empire a horse was worth a lot more than a human life. it made sense for them to be treated well.

Eragon frowned "I don't know if I want the empire to benefit from Snowfire."

"Fine," Helena snapped, raising her hands in exasperation. "Murtagh can ride on Ellie until we have put at least a little distance between us and the soldiers and until we have some time to decide what to do. I can fly on Godric in the meantime."

She would probably be better off if she did that anyway. They would have to travel the whole night if they wanted to actually gain some distance on the soldiers. Godric could fly without any input from her, allowing her to sleep in the saddle. Not exactly comfortable, but possible.

Fortunately, everyone saw the sense in waiting until they were out of immediate danger before discussing things further.

With tired movements, she pulled herself back into Godric's saddle while Murtagh and Eragon mounted the horses. As Godric rose into the air, she could see torches in the distance of Gil'ead moving in their direction. She also thought she could hear dogs barking, but considering the distance that might simply have been her imagination.

For hours they flew, longer than she had ever flown before. She tried to catch some sleep in the saddle, but it wasn't easy. It was night; it was late February; they were moving fast, and they were high up in the air. The wind was cold, so very cold. Awkwardly, she tried to pull a blanket from her mokeskin pouch and attach it to the saddle with a sticking charm so she had some protection from the elements, but sleep remained elusive.

She was incredibly grateful when Godric landed a few hours before dawn, depositing her near a small cliff that sheltered her from the wind. After getting Godric to promise to wake her when Murtagh and Eragon caught up to them, she wrapped herself up in blankets as tightly as she could and was able to catch at least two hours of sleep before Eragon and Murtagh arrived, Godric covering her with his wings like a mother bird sheltering its young.

After Godric woke her, she drowsily crawled out from under his wings. She first noticed Saphira drinking from a nearby stream, Arya still unconscious and bound to her saddle.

Eragon and Murtagh rode into view. Both of them looking exhausted, "How close is our pursuit?" Eragon asked.

'At the speed they are going they will catch up to us in less than two hours,' Saphira said grimly.

All the humans groaned at the news. Eragon motioned to Arya, "Has she woken up yet?"

'No,' she answered, just as grim, 'I think she might have jerked a little, but that is all. She is very weak.'

"We have to take some time to examine her," Helena said, "Who knows what has been done to her. At the very least we should make sure she is warm." She paused. "In hindsight we really should have wrapped her in blankets before tying her to Saphira's back." Everything had been so hectic until now that they hadn't thought of it.

Wanting to save Eragon or Murtagh the effort, since both looked ready to fall over, she untied Arya from the saddle using the 'Unlocking Charm' – because she remembered it could do that now – and levitated the elf as gently as she could towards the ground.

The elves face was unhealthily pale. Helena reached out to touch her cheek and grimaced when she noticed just how cold she was. _At this point we should probably be relieved she isn't dead yet._

Eragon and Murtagh had both approached to look over her shoulders. "How is she?" Eragon asked fearfully.

"Well… she is still alive," she said uncertainly.  
 _  
_Doing her best not to move the elf too much, she gingerly unlaced the back of her shirt.  
 _  
_"Barzul!" Murtagh cursed. Helena didn't know what barzul meant, but it was obviously a swear word of some sort. Eragon gasped; both he and Murtagh looked as horrified as she suspected she did.

 _We really should be grateful she is even still alive_ _._ Helena felt a shiver run down her back, in empathetic pain.

The elf's back looked more like a mesh of scar tissue than skin. Red lines from whippings covered her from shoulder to waist. Red markings in the shape of claws covered her from where she had been branded with hot iron pokers. In the few places her skin was still intact, her flesh looked blue and swollen from numerous beatings. Some of the wounds still looked fresh and were slowly oozing liquid. Helena noted that on her left shoulder was a tattoo that looked similar to the symbol that was inscribed on Brom's ring, the same ring that Eragon now wore.

"How is she even still alive?" Murtagh asked incredulously.

"I might be able to cure the most recent wounds, but I don't think that will be enough," Helena said, "The only potion that I have on hand that can help is a Pepperup Potion for the cold, and that's probably the least of her problems. I don't have the time to make anything else." _Nor do I know if I even have sufficient ingredients or even the skill necessary to make something that can fix all this._

"Heal whatever you know you can heal safely," Eragon said; Helena knew they were both thinking of when she failed to heal Brom. "I will do whatever I can afterwards."

Helena nodded.

The first thing she did was to take out her Pepperup Potion and stating to pour very small amounts of the liquid on the elf's tongue in the hopes that she would drink it herself – hopefully without choking on it. She checked regularly to see if the elf had swallowed it, giving her more drops in case she had.  
She moved her hand over those wounds that still looked relatively fresh, most predominantly the wounds that were still oozing liquid.  
It wasn't just the elf's back that needed healing. Tortured wounds covered her from her arms to her toes. It was clear that the elf had been tortured repeatedly to the brink of death, only ever healed enough to prevent her from dying.

 _We are really, really,_ _ **really,**_ _lucky she didn't die during the last few hours._

After about half an hour she had carefully healed all the wounds that she felt herself capable of healing, and the elf had – a few drops at a time – drunk all of the Pepperup Potion. When she touched the elf's cheek again, she felt a lot warmer and not like someone who was in danger of breathing their last at any moment.

"That's it," she told Eragon, "I have done all I can."

He nodded. she noticed that in the time she had been working, Eragon and Murtagh had gathered some bandages. "Then now it is my turn to do what I can."

"Are you sure that's safe?" she asked him, "You don't look like you have much energy to spare." Her healing magic might be more risky for the recipient, but Eragon's healing magic was much more dangerous for the caster.

'He can use my energy then,' Saphira interjected, 'I have plenty.' Helena admitted that she had forgotten Saphira had the ability to share her energy with her Rider.

She went to sit down next to Murtagh some yards away, giving Eragon space to work.

Murtagh turned to her, rubbing his hands together. "How many of those Pepperup Potions do you have left." His breath was visible upon the air.

"Only one," she said honestly, "but I got the ingredients to make at least one more, though I don't know if I have the time for it now."

"You should give that one to Eragon then," he said through clenched teeth. Helena suspected he was doing it to prevent them from trembling. "I'll wait."

Helena looked down and found that his feet were covered in a pair of Eragon's old boots – one she knew was almost worn out to the point of uselessness and Eragon only kept because you always needed a spare. "You really feel guilty don't you?" she said softly, and started to heat up the air around her with hearthfire.

"I feel fucking stupid," he snapped. Helena jolted a little due to the vehemence of his cursing. Most of the swear words in the wizarding world were incredibly tame, mostly consisting of inappropriate references to famous wizards and the prolific use of the word 'bloody'. "I chose to pursue my goal of safety and freedom at the cost of… friendship." It looked like he had trouble saying the word because it was too embarrassing; she thought it somewhat endearing. "In the end I was left with nothing. Now it looks like I need to rely on the charity of the very people that I abandoned."

She wanted to say that he shouldn't beat himself up over it, but she knew it wouldn't do him any good. The hours flying on Godric during the night had given her plenty of time to consider Murtagh's behavior.  
This wasn't about Eragon or Helena offering forgiveness – they had already said they still considered him a friend – this was about Murtagh forgiving himself. No words out of her mouth could help with that, she thought.

Instead she asked, "What do you want to do now?"

Her question seemed to throw him for a loop, and he was silent for what seemed like a minute before replying. "I want to stick around, for now, and see if I can make it up somehow."

"You do remember that you saved Eragon from the Ra'zac right?" Helena asked. Eragon had already said it before, but she felt the need to point it out again. This wasn't about fulfilling a debt. "And it isn't like we risked The Fort just to save you, right? We didn't even know you were there; we just stumbled onto you." Not that they likely wouldn't have broken in just for him, but she felt like playing down their actions, and hopefully, his feelings of obligation even more.

"It isn't about you," Murtagh said with tired sigh.

Helena didn't say anything more and took out her last Pepperup Potion and presented it to Murtagh who opened his mouth to protest, but Helena stopped him with a raised hand. "You know as well as I do that Eragon will never accept it while you are in the state you're in. Just shut up and take the potion."

With a grunt, Murtagh conceded her point and drank her potion. Next, Helena decided to take out some of the food provisions she had left over. "You can't make a fire," Murtagh said when he saw that she was holding a piece of cold meat; correctly assuming she wanted to warm it up. Eating raw meat was generally considered a bad idea for humans. Helena had to stifle a chuckle when she saw faint wisps of translucent smoke coming out of Murtagh's ears due to her potion. He himself didn't seem to notice. "We can't afford to broadcast our location."

"My fire isn't natural fire," she said, using the excuse of professional pride to mask her amused smile at Murtagh's chimney ears. "Magical fire doesn't need a substance to burn, there will be no smoke."

She walked over to a relatedly large and clean piece of rock and started to send a stream of unnaturally uniform red flame at it until it started glowing. Next, she threw all the meat on it, her mouth watering slightly at the smell and the sound of the sizzling meat. She made sure to have enough for three. That _did_ end up making _some_ smoke, and the hunting dogs would undoubtedly be able to smell this, but…. whatever. They needed the energy and the comfort.

Neither Murtagh nor Eragon were inclined to chastise her for the risk once they were giving their share. She had no idea when Murtagh last had a descend meal, and Eragon was always hungry after he taxed himself with magic.

Helena looked over Arya's still unconscious body. Eragon had kept working on her while he ate. "You did good work Eragon." most of her wounds had vanished, only some older looking scars still remained.

Eragon nodded, sweat creasing his brows, but he had a self-satisfied smile on his face, "I don't think I would have done so well if you hadn't fixed the worst of it." His smile dimmed, "but neither of us can heal internal injuries. We don't know what else has been done to her."

Helena's imagination started to present her with all the gruesome things that could happen to a woman who is being systematically tortured and nodded grimly. "I am sure she will be fine." She wasn't sure who she was trying to convince. "Have you given any thought about leaving the horses behind?"

'I greatly dislike having anybody but you on my back for any great lengths of time,' Godric pointed out to her. Nobody reacted, so she guessed that he was talking to her alone. 'Unless it is an emergency, I would prefer not to have to carry Murtagh around with us.'

Helena silently berated herself, she shouldn't have volunteered Godric for transport before getting his consent.

Eragon groaned, "I really don't like that idea," he sighed, "but yes, if we can't outrun the soldiers otherwise, then we will do that."

"I don't like it either," Murtagh said, "but if we don't lose this army pursuing us, then we must either give up the horses, or ride them to death."

"Us?" Eragon echoed Murtagh's choice of words, a wry smile on his face, "Does that mean you're staying after all."

"As long as nobody has a problem with it," He said.

"I don't," Eragon said with a smile. "Me neither," Helena added with an identical smile.

The dragons were decidedly more lukewarm on the subject.

'I suppose he can still serve some use,' Godric drawled in a bored tone. He hadn't been that impressed with Murtagh thus far. With Eragon, Godric at least never had much doubt about his willingness to help, just his competency. Murtagh didn't even have that much going for him. But on the other hand, Murtagh had never really expressed a romantic interest in her once he noticed Eragon's infatuation, which to Godric was a huge point in his fa–– well not exactly in his _favor_ , just less of a reason to dislike him. Mostly Godric just didn't care about him beyond the importance he had to Helena.

'I don't think he will leave again,' Saphira said slowly. It was possible to read a threat in those words, but Helena wasn't sure if it was meant that way.

"Thank you," Murtagh said, voice heavy with emotion.

'I would like to point out that with every second that passes, the soldiers are coming closer,' Godric said impatiently, 'Make your decision.'

"Is there anywhere we can go where the soldiers won't follow?" Helena asked.

"The Spine," Eragon said, pulling out a map out of his bag and rolling it open on the ground. "Galbatorix once lost half of his army in that forest. The soldiers won't follow us there."

"But the Urgals will, and they are now under his command," Murtagh pointed out, "In fact, some say that it was the Urgals that were responsible for half that army disappearing in the first place. Considering that the courtier who mentioned it disappeared shortly afterwards, I am inclined to believe that," Murtagh eyes went wide, "and we are forgetting the Ra'zac. If we hide anywhere within the empire they are likely to find us eventually."

"What of Surda?" Helena offered, pointing at the small country at the bottom of the map. "Won't we be safe there?"

Murtagh laughed at her suggestion, causing Eragon to shoot him glare in her defense. "What?" Helena asked, pursing her lips in annoyance.

"I am sorry," Murtagh said, trying to remove the smile from his face with limited success; he still looked amused. "It's just that, where I come from, Surda is considered somewhat of a joke. A country of cowardly savages whose best strategy seems to be: 'Let's try to be as unimportant as possible and hope Galbatorix forgets that we exist.' Fugitives often get the idea of fleeing the border to Sudra, hoping that they will be safe there." He scoffed, "If the fugitives are important enough to bother, then the empire simply demands that they be returned. And guess what? They always do! They know that, unlike the elves, Galbatorix knows exactly where they are and can crush them whenever he wants."

Helena's spirits fell with every word Murtagh spoke. Though officially neutral, as the only human country that didn't answer to Galbatorix, she had held some high hopes for it.

"Look, even if you are willing to go there," Murtagh put his finger on the spot that they estimated was their current position and ran it downwards in a straight line towards Surda's capital city. His finger passed right over Urû'baen, "you would need to make a big detour if you don't want to risk the capital." Murtagh shook his head, "Even if you did arrive safely, and _if_ they decide to shelter you, it would most certainly mean war would break out immediately." Murtagh looked at her seriously. "Do you think you are ready to take on the empire _right now_? Unless you are willing to throw Surda to the wolves, that is what would happen."

Neither Helena nor Eragon held any delusions about their current chances. Fighting that Shade had been a big eye-opener about just how outclassed they were. If that Shade – the one they barely survived due to a fluke – served Galbatorix, then that means that Galbatorix was even more powerful.

"Alright, I get it," Helena snapped irritably. "We won't go to Surda."

"So we can't go south to Surda; we can't go west towards the Spine, and to the North is the very army that we are currently fleeing from," Eragon summarizes grimly. "That leaves east towards the Hadarac Desert."

"Yes," Murtagh nodded, "Probably the most inhospitable place towards life in the entire world outside of the bottom of the Boar's Eye." The Boar's Eye, Helena knew from studying the maps at Joed's place, was an eternally spinning whirlpool in the southwestern part of the ocean that seemed to terrify sailors who had to go anywhere within thirty miles of it.

"Must you be so negative?" Eragon snarled. "If you are just going to be telling us that all our ideas are horrible, then maybe you should come up with something yourself."

Murtagh raised his hands defensively. "I am just telling you what problems we'll face. The Hadarac Desert is still probably the least bad option, but it is still a bad option. What small number of plants and animals live there are nearly all poisonous. Those few of the Wandering Tribes that actually _decide_ to live there disguise what few wells and oases there are so no one can steal their precious water."

"Food shouldn't be a problem," Eragon said. "Back in Gil'ead we gathered plenty of supplies for what was supposed to be our journey to the Varden."

"I can conjure water for us if that is a problem," Helena said.

"And you only mention this now?" Eragon asked, sounding exasperated. "We could have saved ourselves a lot of trouble if we never had to look for streams of freshwater to drink."

"It's not that healthy if you drink it all the time," Helena defended. "It's too clean."

Eragon and Murtagh both looked at her as if she was crazy. "How can water be _too_ clean?" Eragon asked.

Helena shrugged, "Something about a lack of minerals or something. For such a short time, it should be fine however."

Eragon looked like he wanted to question her further on her strange water, but Saphira stopped him. 'Enough,' she bellowed, 'you have decided on a direction. Unless we plan to fight the army from Gil'ead we must leave now.'

Nobody argued with her. Helena still thought that if she could convince Godric to carry two people then leaving the horses might be a good idea, but she supposed there was no harm in dragging their feet a bit. Eragon's powers were still growing stronger with every day, and she too felt she still had some growing to do. In light of that, delaying a bit didn't seem like such a bad idea.

So long as they aren't captured in the next few days that is.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

They all wanted to be out of the empire and _fast_ ; thus they had decided to move in an almost straight line towards the east until they had obtained some modicum of safety before decideding whether they would angle north towards Du Weldenvarden or south towards the Beor Mountains.

Even with the limited range of her Apparation, that ability became invaluable in the days after their escape from Gil'aed. Word had been sent ahead of them _somehow,_ and small groups of soldiers from tiny hamlets made various attempts to set up ambushes or otherwise hinder their progress. Thanks to her ability, they had little problem in sneaking past them. This saved them a great deal of time since they would have been forced to make large detours otherwise.

It was taxing work though. She only dared to take two people or one horse with her at the same time. This meant that it took six jumps every time they needed to transport their group. It also took some coordination and planning from the group to do the trick smoothly. Since she could only move to places that she had a clear picture of in her mind, the rest of the party had to wait impatiently in the spot she later planned to return too, lest she not be able to find them again. Not for the first time, she lamented that tracking charms were not actually 'a thing' outside of some very specific circumstances.

Everyone in their group had objected to her taxing herself so much on their behalf, but she would hear none of it. It was too big of an advantage to ignore, and she was the only one who could do it, so she had to do it.

Despite this advantage, they still pushed themselves to the brink of exhaustion. They dared not sleep until they had at least put the Ramr River behind them. This was part of the reason why apparating became so difficult for her. Her mind became so addled by a lack of proper sleep that she had to spend half a minute to collect her wits every time she apparated, lest she accidentally splinch anyone. If they slept in the day they risked the soldiers finding them, whom seemed to be everywhere. They had really kicked over an anthill with their stunt in Gil'ead.

If they slept during the night, they risked the Ra'zac ambushing them in darkness. They were confident that as a group they could beat the Ra'zac and their mounts in a fair fight, but only if it was just that – a fair fight.

When Helena looked at her reflection in the Ramr River she, for the first time, saw how her transformation into a Rider had altered her, not just in terms of ability, but in physical appearance as well. Her round face had become more angular and her ears had become pointier. They still didn't look like elfish ears. Arya's ear for example were longer than it they were wide. Her own ears hadn't become any larger, but they had become to resemble the form of a triangle rather than that off an oval. Helena found she liked this change; it made her look more refined and exotic.

With Apparation, crossing the river wasn't much of an issue. Hopefully, any army pursuing them would be halted by the river, meaning that from that point on they only needed to worry about the Ra'zac and their flying mounts.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx 

"And here we are," Murtagh said in a strange mix of relief and dread. "The Hadarac Desert."

The Hadarac Desert matched what Helena always imagined a desert would look like. Large dunes of reddish gold sand as far as the eye can see, rising like waves over the landscape. No clouds to be seen anywhere.

Helena mused that for a continent that was only about one and a half times as large as England – at least the parts that have been discovered; the eastern edge of the map was bordered by uncharted territories, not water – Alagaësia seemed to be unnaturally diverse. Two giant mountain ranges? A large forest that from rumor seemed to resemble some of the African rainforests? A big desert in the middle of it all? I couldn't all be natural, could it?

That night was the first time they dared get a full night's sleep in. They still weren't confident enough to light a fire to chase away the cold, lest they broadcast their position. Helena did warm up their camp as much as she could, but she couldn't keep that up while asleep. The dragons decided to take watch that night so that the humans could profit from their rest as much as possible. They had gotten even less rest than the humans, but the dragons' general constitution was a lot more resilient as well. Even they would still need some rest soon though.

They all slept well into the morning, and when they finally woke up, they found themselves feeling better than they had in days. Sadly, there still was no sign of Arya waking up.

After a larger than normal breakfast to celebrate their continued state of none-deadness they took out their map of Alagaësia again to decide on their next course.

"It's really a choice between north to _maybe_ find the elves or south to _maybe_ find the Varden," Eragon started.

"If you enter Surda from the east and keep your presence there a secret, I am sure you will find someone that can point you in the right direction." Murtagh's shoulders slumped, he was dressed into some make-shift clothes that were converted from one of Helena's spare blankets. "Once you reach the Varden, I won't be able to accompany you however."

"I thought you wanted to atone?" Eragon asked, sounding puzzled.

 _Ouch!_ Helena grimaced, _wrong choice of words Eragon._  
 _  
_Murtagh shot Eragon a glare but nothing more. "I will do you no favors by following you to the Varden. It will only hurt your credibility."

"Why not?" not Eragon asked, visibly frustrated. This wasn't the first time that Murtagh had said the Varden wouldn't like him, and he never gave any explanation. "Did you wrong them in some way?"

"It was nothing that _I_ ever did."

Helena had her long since made her own theory about Murtagh's identity, and it was time to put it to the test.

"You fear that they will take you hostage?" Helena asked as neutrally as possible.

Murtagh scoffed. "It wouldn't work." Than his eyes widened as he realized that he gave away more than he wanted too.

 _Aha!_ Helena congratulated herself on her cleverness, _that means that he is someone who would normally be worth being taken hostage. It's just that Galbatorix wouldn't yield to such pressure._

"You know, Murtagh," Helena said grinning, eyes dancing with mirth. "If you keep being that vague about your mysterious reasons for avoiding the Varden, Eragon and I will just come up with our own theories."

Murtagh lowered his eyes, a brooding look on his face. "Nothing you could come up with could be worse than the truth."

And with those words Helena was completely convinced that she knew who she was talking to. He was well educated, had shown some courtly manners, possessed great insight into the politics of the empire, knew more about the Riders and the Forsworn than almost anyone, and said he could potentially be taken hostage if Galbatorix wasn't such a douche.

Helena leaned forward, the corners of her lips moving upward, "You are Galbatorix's son aren't you?"

Murtagh froze; his mouth made some gaping motions like a fish. _Bingo!_

Eragon's jaw dropped open.

Saphira bolted upright and looked about ready to tear Murtagh in half.

Murtagh fell backwards in on the sandy ground. He opened his mouth, but seemed unable to form words.

Eragon crouched on the ground, muscles tense and his hand on Za'roc's hilt. "It's true isn't it?"

"No!" Murtagh said franticly, eyes darting wildly about himself as if looking for an escape. "I am not Galbatorix's son!"

Nobody believed him, his reaction to Helena's guess was too damning.

"Did you come to assassinate me or Helena?" Eragon snarled.

"All right, calm down everyone." Helena moved quickly to stand between Eragon, Saphira and Murtagh, holding up both her hands in a calming gesture towards Eragon and Saphira. She was somewhat surprised at how violent Eragon and Saphira reacted; she had expected some suspicion yes, but not this instant kill reaction. "This is no reason to get upset."

Godric was just lying lazily in the sand; watching the proceedings with a curious eye; ready in case Helena needed him, but otherwise unbothered by all the drama.

'Are you out of your mind?!' Saphira screamed in her mind.

"I am not Galbatorix's son!" Murtagh yelled futilely; his face was growing red.

"How can you possibly defend him?" Eragon demanded incredulously of Helena, motioning with his sword towards Murtagh, "We can't trust him!"

"I am not Galbatorix's son!" Murtagh yelled again.

"He hasn't done anything wrong, has he?" Helena shot back.

"I am not Galbatorix's son!"

"He was raised by Galbatorix himself!" Eragon snapped.

"Galbatorix didn't raise me!"

"You see," Helena motioned towards Murtagh as if he had just proven her point. "He and his father have obviously rejected each other."

"I am not Galbatorix's son!" Everyone continued to ignore him.

"Just remember how he was treated in Gil'ead," Helena reasoned further. "If his father at all valued him he wouldn't be treated like that."

'He is still the black king's progeny,' Saphira snarled, 'Deceit runs in his blood.'

"I am not Galbatorix's son!"

"Yes!" Helena said eagerly, to Saphira. "This is great. Not the deceit part but––"

"I am just Morzan's son!"

Everyone looked at Murtagh in surprise, he seemed to be breathing heavily. There was a tense silence in the air, as if nobody knew what to do now, or if the possibility of violence had passed or not.

Murtagh broke the silence first. He looked at Helena with one raised eyebrow. "Why do seem so disappointed?"

She singed sadly, "I am sorry, it's just. . .," her face contorted in frustration, "I had it all figured out, you know?" the frustration vanished to make way for a wistful expression, "The neglected prince. Running away from his father and his court of sycophants. As he runs away, he makes friends with two Riders and wanders the land with them. As they travel, he grows appalled at the way his father's subjects are treated." Helena made some vague fisting motion for emphasis, her eyes burning with an unholy fire. "He cannot let this stand! With his two powerful new friends at his side he vows take to take the throne from his father and lead his kingdom into righteousness! With the power of friendship and courage they succeed in overthrowing the evil king; proving once and for all that no matter who you are or where you come from, everyone has the potential to be a good person!" she held her hand up to Murtagh in a gesture that was probably meant to be reassuring, "Don't worry, Eragon and me would have been your advisers, of course, helping you run your new kingdom and all that." Her shoulders slumped. "Sadly, that's not going to happen now."

The ensuing silence that followed her little speech – while still heavy – wasn't as tense anymore, and everyone's postures relaxed slightly.

Everyone – with the obvious exception off Arya – was looking at her as they couldn't decide whether she was completely crazy or. . . only slightly crazy. Being completely sane was out of the question at this point. Godric moved one of his front paws in front if his eyes in a surprisingly human gesture as if embarrassed on his rider's behalf.

"Uhm," Murtagh said hesitantly, he raised his shoulders in an uncertain gesture. "I am sorry?" His lips twitched upwards.

"It's alright," Helena said generously, though she still looking incredibly disappointed. "It's not your fault." She sat herself back on the sandy ground and continued to sulk.

Murtagh shot Eragon a look, raised his hand in front of his face and pointed his index finger at him. "I am unsure whether I should be jealous or be thankful that I avoided some great disaster. Still, if you are not careful I might start thinking about poaching."

"I am still wondering whether I should skewer you or not," Eragon said without much heat, the wind had clearly been knocked out of his sails. Compared to the earlier assumption of his identity, this was almost mundane by comparison. He took a deep breath, "So. . ." he trailed off, "Morzon's son?"

Murtagh shrugged, "He died when I was barely three years old. I barely remember him; probably for the best. From what people have told me, he was a cruel drunken brute. All he ever gave me was a scar on my back when he threw _that_ sword," He motioned towards Za'roc, "at me when he was drunk."

"So Brom. . .?"

"Killed my father yes," Murtagh said without any emotion, "Man did me a favor, honestly."

Despite knowing Murtagh had a very good reason for it, the way Murtagh talked so uncaringly about his own father still seemed to disturb Eragon somewhat. "So why are you here?" he asked. "If you really are Morzan's son, then the king wouldn't just let you walk around."

"The king isn't _letting_ me do anything," Murtagh said with a hard laugh, "You have noticed that I am on the run, right?"

"Fair enough," Eragon allowed with a small smile, "but why did you leave?"

Murtagh face turned sour. "The short version is that I disagreed with Galbatorix in how much collateral damage is acceptable when dealing with one's enemies. I also wanted a new start."

"And the long version?" Eragon pressed.

"It's a long story, I don't want to start it now." Eragon opened his mouth to protest, but Murtagh raised a hand. "I will tell you the full version while on the road; we have dallied here long enough."

'Wisdom flows from his mouth, _'_ Godric drawled, _'_ north to search for the elves or south to search for the Varden; pick one.'

"Brom wanted us to go to the Varden," Eragon said, "And I think they would be easier to find than the elves."

"Also keep in mind that the last time the elves encountered either Dragon or Riders they were fighting the Forsworn," Murtagh pointed out. "They may not be eager to meet you."

'They would accept us,' Saphira said confidently. Godric echoed Saphira's sentiment.

'How do you know?' Helena asked; she had stopped moping by herself when she noticed that the planning had started again. "Neither of you have ever so much as spoken to an elf before."

'I. . . don't know. . .' Godric sounded uncertain, which was odd considering that neither dragon was known for _ever_ being uncertain about _anything_. 'Something in my blood calls out to me, telling me that as a whole, the elves are trustworthy.'

'Though we are young, part of our minds is ancient,' Saphira added. 'It is this part of ourselves that knows we can the trust the elves.'

"Even so, we have no way to find them except: wander through Du Weldenvarden until we stumble upon them by accident," Eragon said.

"Let's be realistic here," Murtagh said with a self-deprecating smile, "We would wander aimlessly through the forest until _they_ find _us_. Considering that we are dragging an unconscious elf with us, they may get the wrong idea.'

And that was the end of it; they would go south towards the Beor Mountains.

During one of their brief stops to allow the horses and themselves to eat and drink, Eragon managed to corner Helena alone, just before she planned to mount Godric. Since Murtagh was now using her horse, she suspected she would now do most of her traveling in the air.

Helena noticed that he looked a bit nervous. "Helena do you. . ." he fidgeted slightly, and his teeth were slightly clenched, "have a moment to talk privately?"

She quirked an eyebrow, but quickly acquiesced with a nod. She had a pretty good idea what this was about anyway. She asked Godric to give them space, and prevent any of the others from interrupting them.

"Well…" he sighed, "it's about Murtagh."

She nodded, "It bothers you."

"Yes, and it doesn't seem to bother you at all." He looked weary and lost, "I feel like I am standing in quicksand; nothing is certain anymore."

She didn't say anything yet, and just waited patiently for him to continue.

He took a deep breath. "Where I come from, a person's heritage matters a great deal. A child inherits both their parent's glories, as well as their shames. All that I know tells me that it is dangerous to trust him." He took another deep breath. "But it doesn't bother you at all. You, who is probably the most… well…. _good_ person I know." Now it was Helena's turn to fidget in awkwardness and embarrassed. "It's just hard, you know?"

"Eragon, I cannot tell you what to believe, but do you really think a baby fresh into the world could actually carry any kind of sin?"

Eragon allowed himself to fall on the soft sandy ground. Helena also allowed herself to sit down. "No. . ., it's just," he bit his lower lip, "many of the things you say are different from all the stuff I learned growing up in Carvahall. The people there are _good honest people_ , Helena. How could so many good people be wrong about such fundamental things? And what about the concept of inheritance? Is that wrong too?" He looked her straight in the eyes. "Are you proud of your parents?"

"Of course."

"But if you can have pride in them then, you can share their shame too, can't you?"

"Look," Helena tried to sound as calm and reasonable as possible; all of this was clearly bothering him and it was important to her too. "All I am saying is that you should judge people by their actions."

He nodded, "I can agree with that, but. . ." he sighed deeply again, "this is going to be the different culture explanation all over again, right?"

"Well I didn't stay around to listen to that particular lecture, but probably, yea." At that time, she had been too tired from sparring to pay any attention to what Brom had been saying.

"Brom told me that just because some people live differently or hold different values, that doesn't make them necessarily better or worse. To think one's believes are inherently better than others' is self-righteous. He said it was a characteristic many of the Riders struggled with." He rested his chin in his hand and looked at nothing in particular, a thoughtful expression on his face. "I still have trouble accepting that. There must be _some_ things that are just true; if not, then what is the point of it?"

 _This conversation seems to have evolved far beyond Murtagh and his parentage_ , "I wish I had answers for you, but I don't." She really needed a Dumbledore right now; he would know what to say. "I have always just done what felt right to me, and that has. . . most of the time, worked well for me."

"But when I try to do the same it doesn't work," his smile was a bitter thing.

She didn't like that expression on his face. "You're a good person, please don't doubt that." she said hastily. "I have seen it in Gil'ead."

"Am I?" he muttered, he looked over to where Murtagh was standing, staring vacantly in that way that indicated he was talking to one the dragons. _He is probably wondering what the delay is about,_ she thought. "I have been an ass, haven't I?"

 _There is no good way to answer that question_ , she decided; so she kept her silence.

He looked at her again. "You think I should apologies?"

Apologizing was something of a lost art, she figured. She had never apologized for her bitchiness in fifth year and Ron had never apologized in fourth year; there was no need to. They were friends; some things didn't need to be said; they were simply understood.

"You should do what _you_ think is right," she said. There was no need for him to rely on her conscience for answers when his own was in perfectly good order.

Eragon's eyes seemed to grow sharper. "I will." He stood up and walked over to Murtagh.

And at that moment Helena knew why Saphira had chosen to hatch for Eragon.

Eragon learned fast, almost ridiculously so. He had learned to read and write in a week, had become a master swordsman in less than two months, and she suspected he knew enough about the Ancient Language already to almost hold a full conversation in it, but that wasn't what made him great in her eyes.

She knew that – as a person – Murtagh had far more debt to him than Eragon had, but Eragon had something that was far more important than any amount of life experience.

As he was now, Eragon really wasn't _that_ impressive. At times, he reminded her of a blank canvas that multiple people – herself included – were trying paint something on. He was someone who wanted to do the right thing by as many people as he could. It was something that would probably make him easy to manipulate in the future, and cause many to scoff at him, saying that he is nothing more than a tool for others – a mere servant or pawn.

Helena didn't see it like that. Yes, he didn't embody the ideal of the awesome badass who moves the world on the fulcrum of his desires and does what he wants – regardless of what people think of him, but that wasn't an ideal that she found worth admiring. As impressive as those kind of people are to watch – they rarely leave the world a better place than they found it in, often causing more problems than they solve.

She was sure that Eragon was going to be someone who _would_ leave the world a better place than he found it in. Because in the end, Eragon was someone who – partly because of his view of what it meant to be a Rider – _needed_ to see himself as a virtuous person. He wasn't impressive _now_ , but that _need_ would keep driving him to better himself. That, combined with his insatiable curiosity about almost _everything_ , would cause him to continue to grow.

She suspected that was also why he misspoke when he questioned Murtagh on wanting to atone. It is natural to assume that others think like you do, unless proven otherwise. If Eragon did something wrong, he would try to fix it – so he wouldn't think there was anything wrong about questioning Murtagh on atoning. The question wasn't out of desire to use guilt as a meant to manipulate, but simple confusion. If Eragon were in the same position, he wouldn't mind it if someone asked him something like that; so why would anybody else?

Yet another thing he would have to learn, but she knew that he _would_ learn it.

Eragon was confident and stubborn in his own beliefs, but not to the point that he wouldn't listen to the arguments of others, or alter his believes when they didn't match with reality. He would struggle with those dilemmas but would become _more_ for it. That shouldn't be a rare attribute in people, but she knew that is was. Few would ever entertain the notion that their values aren't absolute. When they encounter things that don't support those beliefs, they dismiss them as unimportant, lies, or as a coincidences.

And as she saw him walking over the sandy dunes, hand outstretched to keep the wind from blowing sand in his eyes, to swallow his considerable pride and do something so basic – yet so _rare_ – as apologizing, she felt like she saw a shadow of the great man he could one day become.


	15. Will

**Special thanks to CerealReader who pointed out the embarrassing number of mistakes in this chapter.**

* * *

Traveling through the Hadarac Desert had been a mixed blessing.

On the one hand: The Hadarac Desert was definitely unpleasant. The temperature was always one of extremes; searing heat – though she guessed it would be worse in summer – or freezing cold at night. A heavy wind seemed to blow constantly, obscuring their vision and blowing sand in their eyes. If it wasn't for the dragons' excellent sense of direction they likely would have went off course on the first day. The wind always seemed to blow in the opposite direction than the one they were going, because _of course it did_.

None of them had any actual experience traveling through this kind of terrain or climate, so they had to actually make the mistake of traveling when the sun was at its zenith before they realized why this was a _terrible_ idea, even with magic to keep the temperature down. From just that one time, all three of the humans had gotten some decree of sunburn. Helena had thankfully managed to whip up some Burn-healing paste, so none of them had to suffer for long. They still decided it would be wiser to travel mostly at night and try to catch some sleep during the worst hours of the day.

On the other hand, they didn't need to worry so much about being caught by soldiers. Galbatorix's empire ended at the desert. Murtagh had told them that in the time of the Riders, they took care to maintaining some form of order even among the few tribes that actually _chose_ to live here, but without the Riders, any nations border couldn't extend beyond the desert. It was part of the reason why Galbatorix wanted to recreate the Riders under him, or so Murtagh claimed.

The desert dunes thankfully weren't all-encompassing; there was enough rocky terrain with some limited vegetation for the horses to eat and walk on. If the horses had to walk through deep sand all the time, they likely would have sprung a muscle or something.

They also got lucky that they – and the horses – managed to avoid getting bitten by any of the poisonous animals that made the Hadarac Desert their home. Nor did they encounter any of the bandits or slavers that Murtagh said preyed on any travelers or tribes they encountered.

On the dawn of the fourth day, they could see some vague clouds on the horizon. Considering that the desert was almost devoid of clouds, they took this as a good sign. After sleeping through the middle of the day and traveling through the afternoon, they had to reassess their opinions on those 'clouds'.

"No…. No… just… just No!" Helena said in denial. "There is no way mountains that big could possibly be natural."

"Impossible," Murtagh agreed. He rubbed his eyes to see if they were maybe – hopefully? – deceiving him, but eventually he had to trust his senses. "I knew that the Beor Mountains were large, but that's monstrous size."

"The gods themselves must have raised these from the ground," Eragon whispered in awe.

Helena would have normally been skeptical at the idea of gods being responsible for anything, but she really didn't have any other explanation herself other than magic, and a magic-user who is capable of something like this might as well be called a god.

'I feel like a hatchling again,' Saphira commented, 'Compared to these, even I feel tiny!'

'I wonder if the animals that made those valleys their home are proportional in size?' Godric wondered, sounding almost eager at the prospect.

The objects of their wonder were giant mountains, and by giant they meant that they were so large and so high they could barely see the top. The mountains eclipsed anything that could be found on earth by a very large margin. _Those peaks must be reaching high into the stratosphere, possibly even higher,_ Helena guessed. Forests grew on their lower regions until the trees became scarcer and made way for snow, but at one point even the snow ended. At least Helena thought it did; it was difficult to see from so far away. It was that lack of snow that made Helena suspect that the mountains actually rose above the troposphere. She knew that at one point, as you rose higher and higher, it became impossible for any clouds to form to deposit ice crystals or snow. Madame Hooch had made sure she was well aware of the dangers of actually attempting to fly _that_ high with her Firebolt when she received it – something the Firebolt was technically capable of.

What was even weirder was that, unlike any other mountain she had ever heard of, they were far taller than they were wide. The base of the mountains looked to be about a few score miles wide, but the peaks were even higher. She was somewhat incredulous at the fact these things were stable. _At least I hope they are stable,_ she thought grimly.

"I must say I am looking forward to some leisure time under the shade of those behemoths," Murtagh grumbled. "When I said to Tornac that I preferred a life on the run, I think fate wanted to have good laugh at my expense. When I said 'life on the run' I didn't mean it _that_ literally!"

Helena didn't blame him, they had already covered over fifty leagues in about four days. As long as there was still a chance of the Ra'zac finding them, they didn't want to risk slowing down. Once they reached the Beor Mountains they would likely be safe and could take things a little easier.

"I am not so sure we can afford that," Eragon said with a meaningful glance at Arya who still hadn't woken up. Helene didn't know much about elves, but nobody could go on forever without proper nourishment. Eragon and Helena occasionally dropped drops of water in her mouth – always careful so that she wouldn't choke – but that couldn't be enough. Helena didn't think forcefully returning her to consciousness with magic would be a good idea when she didn't even know what was wrong with her.

It still took them another full night of traveling until they reached the edge of the desert. The horses had made excellent time with both Snowfire and Ellie sensing that they were nearing a friendlier climate. When the sun rose the next day, they had finally left the rocky-sandy ground behind them and arrived on the first proper field of grass that they had seen in days. Granted the grass still looked somewhat dry and yellow, but that didn't stop Murtagh from allowing himself to fall back-first on the ground and moving his arms and legs as if he was making a snow angel.

The horses too dropped to the ground with relief when they were allowed to stop to rest.

Helena was slightly better off – riding Godric didn't take much energy – and still had the energy to lay down a blanked before resting. She didn't want ants to crawl up her pants or something.

She was jolted out of her short light sleep – which she later guessed had only taken an hour judging by the position of the sun – when she heard Eragon utter a pained yell.

When she scurried over to him she found him withering on the ground next to Arya, a concerned Saphira and Murtagh hovering over him.

"What happened?" she asked sharply.

'I don't know,' Saphira said. Judging by how evenly yet quickly she was speaking her words, or thinking as the case may be, Helena guessed she was making an effort not to panic, 'one moment he was checking on Arya's condition, then he just collapsed. I can't reach him.'

 _If his mind isn't in his own body then. . ._ she shot a look at the unconscious elf. _Perhaps not so unconscious after all._

Eragon's grimaces seemed to be getting more pained.

 _She is killing him,_ she realized with dawning horror.

Not pausing to consider her actions, she left her body behind and reached out to the elf's consciousness. There she found Eragon's spirit being slowly strangulated by elf's mind– the mental equivalent of strangulation anyway. When explaining the mind arts nearly everything takes the form of a metaphor. Until that moment she would never have guessed you could use pure mind arts to kill a person. Read their thoughts, yes; stun them, yes; and if you were really powerful, perhaps possess someone, yes; but kill? That was new.

Again, without pausing to think, she rammed her mind against that of the elf to throw her of off Eragon.

It worked.

The elf's mind was distinctly different from that of any human mind she had ever felt. Brom had told her that her own mind was different as well, but she had no way to check beyond asking others to describe it to her. Trying to figure out how your own mind feels was like trying to discover what one's own face looks like without a mirror, simply by running your own hands over your own features and trying to picture it. It could be done, but it was _hard_ and far from ideal.  
Arya's mind felt older, and a beautifully soft – yet insistent – haunting melody seemed to come from deep within; a part of her, yet not a part of her. L _ike a weaker version of the dragons' ancestral memory_ , she guessed.

She could tell that Arya's mind was well disciplined, but a soul crushing tiredness that gave Helena a feeling of hopelessness by virtue of sheer empathy made Arya a lot weaker than she otherwise would have been. It was this weakness, combined with Helena's own considerable mental powers and the sheer suddenness of the attack that allowed her to slip into the elf's thoughts before Helena had even fully realized what she was doing.

Fragments of memories flashed before her. The language spoken was that of the ancient language, but since she was experiencing the memories from Arya's point of view, the meaning was clear.

"You can't go! You have a duty to your people!" Mother yelled in hysterics.  
"I do," I replied, keeping my voice as calm as possible despite my annoyance. By getting emotional while I remain in control, mother will only seem less reasonable in comparison to me, thus diminishing the weight of her arguments, regardless of Mother's positon. "And this is the best way to fulfill that duty." A pause, "I intend to take the Yawë, Mother."  
Despite my conviction, I did feel some guilt at how the color seemed to drain from Mother's face. "I have already lost a mate; must I lose my only daughter as well?"  
I had anticipated that particular plea to try and play on my feelings of guilt, and had planned to say something biting about how I still remembered what father had been willing to die for; unlike mother, but looking at her now – so vulnerable and desperate – I found I didn't have the heart.  
"I will be careful Mother," I replied. I turned around and started walking away, ignoring mother's increasingly desperate pleas. I feared that if I stayed to listen for much longer, Mother might actually succeed in swaying me away from my destiny.

Helena could sense the terrible despair that flowed from Arya at the realization that her mind had been breached, but then the despair slowly made way for a steely unyielding determination.

"Arya Queen's-daughter," a man named Thallan spoke solemnly from behind me, "By taking the Yawë, your life will no longer belong to yourself, but to the race of elves as a whole. Do you understand this?"  
"I do," I said.  
"Will you swear to dedicate your life primarily to this duty over any other?" I opened my mouth to respond, but he cut me off, "Think very carefully before you reply child, this oath will bind you for the rest of your life, and our lives are long. Is this truly worth dying for?"  
 _He assumes this is a death sentence for me,_ I realized grimly, _he doesn't think there is any hope left, that I am just throwing my life away for a hopeless cause. . . but that is precisely why I must do this.  
_ "I can think of no higher calling, Elder," I said, struggling to keep my voice steady. If I show anything other than stoic conviction he might choose to deny me, thinking it in my best interest.  
"I would die to protect my people."

 _She is going to kill herself!_ Helena realized at about the same moment that Arya made the decision.

'Please don't!' Helena screamed as she hastily retreated from Arya's mind, 'I am not your enemy!' In all of Arya's memories that she had seen, people spoke the Ancient language. She didn't know if the elf would place any value at all in words spoken in a language that allowed lies, so she did the only thing she could think of to show she meant no harm.

She opened up her mind as far as she could and basically did the mental equivalent off baring her neck to a powerful predator. If Arya wanted to ravage her mind right now, she could.

Arya then proceeded to do exactly that, tearing through her mind with a painful intensity. Helena didn't think the elf was out to cause deliberate harm, yet, but she simply wanted to know who she was dealing with, and perhaps kill her if she didn't like what she found. _Which she is perfectly capable of,_ Helena knew. She had deliberately dropped any and all pretense of defense and left herself open. Arya had already demonstrated that she could kill with just her mind alone, and Eragon had been actively resisting her at that time. For Helena, that was no longer an option.

Helena got the feeling that Arya was mostly confused and suspicious from what she found in her mind, not really trusting what she was seeing. Unlike Eragon she seemed to have no problem navigating her thoughts, like an architect guessing were all the different rooms could be found.

Helena didn't know nearly enough about the ancient language to hold a conversation in it, but this she could do. _'Eko ach néiat Floero ono,'_ she managed to say through the pain. 'I do not deceive you,' was only one small tense change from past to present different from the oath that Brom had demanded of her – 'I have not deceived you'. She had been very relieved to learn that the Ancient Language at least used mostly the same rules of grammar as normal English.

Arya didn't stop looking through her memories, but she got the feeling that the elf became a little gentler in her search.

 _'Stop!'_ she could hear Eragon mental voice yelling, 'Vae eru fricaya un Shur'tugalar!' Helena thought those words meant 'We are friends and Riders'. Helena didn't think she would be able to repeat those words if she were to try. Helena didn't particularly feel like Arya and she were friends at this point and time, judging by how they had both came close to killing the other just recently.

Arya examination of Helena's mind ended, but she didn't retreat, ' _And what of you?'_ Helena heard Arya speak for the first time; her voice was filled with suspicion and disbelief. The words were in the Ancient Language, but they were simple enough. Since Arya still hadn't retreated from her mind, Helena simply allowed herself to recall the memory of Godric hatching, and so showed it to Arya. She suspected Arya had already seen that particular scene – the woman worked fast – but Helena thought it bared repeating. From the emotions that she could sense from Arya, she still wasn't convinced.

Arya spoke some words in the ancient language, but Helena didn't understand most of it.

'I can't understand you. . .,'she replied. She suspected that Arya was talking solely to her considering Eragon wasn't responding to it.

Even more suspicion flowed from Arya, but she continued on in English, or well. . . 'Human', 'The common Tongue', or 'the civilized tongue' depending on who you asked.'

 _'. . . the egg that was freed from Galbatorix was blue. I know that one of the eggs in Galbatorix's possession is red, how did you obtain it? '_

'I don't know,' Helena replied honestly. After a moment she added, _'Eko hávr néiat Floero ono.'_ Even if she couldn't speak the Ancient Language, if she just added, 'I have not deceived you,' after every statement, then it would be just as good, right? _'_ I don't even know if Godric came from that egg.'

Arya still didn't seem reassured, and Helena was starting to get annoyed. She had done nothing wrong to deserve this much suspicion. She understood where Arya was coming from – she was being presented with the seemingly impossible after all – but she wanted the elf out of her mind.

'I consider myself Galbatorix's enemy. Eko hávr néiat Floero ono.' She hoped this would be enough. 'Now get out of my mind,' she demanded shortly.

'You can consider Galbatorix your enemy, yet still be forced to serve him,' Arya pointed out.

 _I suppose I can't blame her for being thorough._ 'I don't serve Galbatorix: willingly or otherwise.' After Arya still didn't move she added once again: _'Eko hávr néiat Floero ono.'_

That finally seemed to be enough, and Arya slowly withdrew from her mind.

At that point Eragon entered the conversation again, and after asking Helena if she was alright, started to give Arya a rundown of everything that had happened since Gil'ead. To Helena's amazement, Eragon managed to use only the Ancient language in doing so. Helena didn't understand all of it and left Eragon to it, retreating from the mental conversation after Eragon assured her that he could handle it. She could feel a faint tugging at her mind that she suspected came from Godric.

As she returned to her body she experienced a sense of incredible vertigo when she started to receive information from her physical senses again.

"Are you alright?" Asked the three spinning Murtaghs in her vision simultaneously. She suspected she was lying on the ground.

After regaining her composure and waiting until all the Murtaghs slowly united into a single Murtagh again she muttered, "I'm fine," while pulling herself upright.

'What happened,' Godric asked.

"I think she thought she was being attacked and retaliated," she said out loud so that everyone could hear her while she slowly pulled myself into a sitting position. She then explained what had happened… or what had almost happened.

'She would never have succeeded in killing you,' Godric said darkly, 'I would have felt it if you were at death's door. I was fully prepared to squash the elf's head should that happen.'

Saphira shot Godric a nasty glare, complete with bared teeth. Ever since they rescued Arya, Saphira had been protective of the elf. Helena supposed it was understandable, considering that Arya had carried Saphira around for sixteen years.

Saphira didn't say anything though; she could hardly blame Godric for coming to his rider's defense.

"Well I am glad that wasn't necessary," Helena said coolly; she never appreciated it when she was reminded of Godric's more pragmatic nature. Yes, having him be protective over her felt nice, but she didn't like how he seemed to have so little problem with killing. She felt a little guilty though, when she felt Godric's hurt at her tone. "We would have been in a lot of trouble if you had." She made a backwards gesture with her thumb over her shoulder towards the unconscious Arya, "Look alive people. We are in the presence of royalty; a real princess." In the second short memory she had seen, someone had called her ' _Arya Dröttningu_ ', or 'Arya Queen's-daughter' as her mind had automatically translated for her. When she was deep in Arya's mind she could use the elf's own knowledge to translate the words.

Murtagh and Saphira looked towards the now exposed princess in shock – though with Saphira it was hard to tell; a dragon's facial expressions were hard to read. Godric also looked at the elf curiously, but seemed to be less affected by the news, possibly due to her own apathy towards the concept of royalty. She never really had much reason to care about it back home.

Helena had a theory that whenever Godric or Saphira's opinions on something weren't preprogrammed due to instinct or ancestral memory, they were instead heavily influenced by their respective Riders. Where else could they have learned them? It would explain why Saphira reacted more strongly to Murtagh's parentage than Godric. Inherent personality could only account for so much with those who are only a few months old.

Eragon began to stir. They all waited patiently for him to collect himself.

'Have you discovered what ails her?' Saphira asked.

Eragon grimaced. "Before that, Helena. Arya has asked me to ask you not to reveal anything that you found in her memories."

Helena made some very embarrassed and nervous laughing sounds. Murtagh looked amused.

Eragon pinched the bridge of his nose. "Well just don't say anything more about it, and don't tell any more people. . ." he hesitated and seemed to struggle with himself before settling on a conclusion that, judging by his expression, he really wasn't happy with. "Even me."

"You have my word I won't tell anyone," Murtagh promised easily, still looking amused. Helena, Saphira, and Godric agreed as well.

"I suppose that will do. As for her illness: she has been poisoned. If she doesn't get the cure - Túnivor's Nectar – in three to four days she will die."

"And we can find this plant, where?" Murtagh asked pointedly. They all knew he had been looking forward to some rest.

Eragon averted his gaze, "The Varden."

Murtagh sighed heavily. He held his hands horizontally palm open, as if pleading with them to understand. "You know I can't go there; they'd imprison me or worse."

"What if we. . ." she looked towards Eragon, who nodded at her, "were to vouch for you?"

"You won't have much influence until you prove yourself trustworthy. Arriving in my company won't help you there."

"I can always just apparate you to safety if it proves too dangerous," Helena offered.

"The Shade has already proven that ability can be stopped," Murtagh pointed out, "What if you can't? Would you still help me escape if it meant going against the Varden?" Murtagh's scoff made it clear that he didn't really expect a positive response to that question, but Helena and Eragon took it seriously.

Helena and Eragon shared an uneasy glance; Murtagh was asking for a lot, but. . . they were also asking him for a lot.

"If there truly is no other way than. . ." Helena trailed off, looking pointedly at Eragon. She would really like for them to be united on this.

Eragon considered for a long time, so long that Helena worried that Murtagh would take offense, but he just waited patiently for Eragon's decision. Murtagh's eyes had already widened briefly when Eragon and Helena had taken his request, spoken half in jest, seriously. Eragon face was pained as he spoke. "I will do whatever is in my power to avoid such a scenario, but if it cannot be avoided, and they keep you imprisoned. . . or worse. . . for no other reason than your lineage then yes. I promise we will help you."

A delighted Helena saw Murtagh clenched his fist with emotion, his face growing red with embarrassment and. . . "You blasted fools!" he yelled as he jumped to his feet, his teeth were revealed in a nasty snarl.

 _huh?_ Helena thought stupidly; that definitely hadn't been what she expected. With a second look Helena realized that Murtagh's face wasn't red with embarrassment, but anger.

"You stupid, dumb, unthinking, rash, shortsighted, bunch of naïve idiots!"

Eragon also leaped upwards, and grabbed Murtagh by his shirt. "What is wrong with you?! We are helping you, you brainless fart!"

Meanwhile, a confused and slightly panicked Helena was looking between the two young men, wondering what brought this on. _This is all wrong!_

Murtagh's hands came upwards, breaking Eragon's grip, and then shoving him backwards. Eragon stumbled backwards, but stayed standing. "As if you two imbeciles could help anyone," Murtagh scoffed.

Eragon made to tackle Murtagh, but he stopped in his tracks when Murtagh turned his back on him and started walking away. Apparently Eragon was unwilling to attack him when his guard was down. "Come back here you coward!"

Murtagh shot Eragon a look you would normally give to a pile of dog poop on a public road, and continued walking; Helena noticed that he was walking towards Elledora. Without any further words he jumped on her back, and started riding away.

Eragon ran to block his path. "Where do you think you are going, you craven!"

Murtagh veered to the right to try and bypass him, "I am going to the Varden, you simpleton!"

Eragon froze, looking stumped. Murtagh used that opportunity to bypass him. "Are you coming," Murtagh yelled over his shoulder, "or do I need to go by myself?"

Eragon eyes widened and then a victorious smile appeared on his face. "Just let me secure Arya to Saphira! I'll be right behind you!"

After a moments confusion where Helena processed what had happened, she looked at Godric, looking just the tiniest bit smug. Godric however, looked troubled. 'Helena. . . do you realize what you just did?'

'huh?' she had no idea what he was talking about, but whenever Godric called her by name it was usually something serious.

'There haven't been many opportunities for it, since there haven't been many moments of rest, and since you spend most of the time traveling on my back instead of down on the ground with the horses, but you have been trying to be very supportive of Murtagh since his parentage was revealed.'

'Yes. . .?' she prompted; she still had no idea where he was going with this. ' _Why is that a problem?'_

'Do you know why you are being so supportive?'

'because. . .' Helena came up short, 'Because he needs it. . . ,' she tried uncertainly.

'You wanted him to keep following you to the Varden.' Godric said. _'_ Dear one you. . . I don't like saying this since I know it will bring you distress, but. . . you have been trying to manipulate him to make the choice you want. Manipulating him through kindness.'

'What?!' She did want Murtagh to go the Varden, but she never looked at it like that. 'I am trying to help him!'

'Yes, you are,' Godric admitted, 'But remember when you said you didn't care about his parentage? That was a lie. You do care. But instead of thinking it a bad thing like Eragon, you thought it good opportunity to bring a lost soul into the light. A project. This is something Dumbledore would have done, I think.'

Helena was unsure of how to respond to that accusation, she had never looked at it like that. She just wanted Murtagh to give the world a chance. 'I am trying to help him,' she repeated stubbornly.

'You are,' Godric admitted again, 'I will not say that what you are doing is wrong, you are a lot more fit to make that judgment than I, but take care. Murtagh now believes he has found at least one person who doesn't care about his parentage, but that isn't true. I think he would hate you, if he comes to know what I know.'

Godric's words had put Helena's thoughts into a turmoil. _What I am doing isn't wrong is it?_ Godric had retreated slightly from her mind, though he might still be able to hear her thoughts since she made no efforts to hide them. He didn't respond, perhaps deciding that she needed to work this out herself. _I am helping him, aren't I? Show kindness and trust so that others learn to show it as well? That can't be––_

Further deliberations would have to wait since Murtagh called out to them. "Guys! I think you need to see this." He called from deep into the forest. She couldn't make out his features from so far away, but he sounded worried.

She ran over to him in her husky form, keeping her senses alert for any danger. Godric followed close behind with some long jumps, though he had to almost uproot several trees to do so.

Murtagh led them to a small ledge that marked the end of the forest. He motioned for them to approach carefully and to keep out of sight. Murtagh himself was standing behind a tree, and occasionally poking his head out to look further south beyond the forest. After telling Godric to keep some distance, she ran towards the tree; it was more than large enough for two people. From there she could see, with human eyes, a long line of soldiers marching down a mountain path about a league or so from their position. It was difficult to make out details from this far away, but the standard at the top of the column wasn't that of the empire. Murtagh pointed, "An Urgal army."

"What," Eragon said from behind her, he must have followed close behind. He leaned sideways so he could take a look from behind the tree. "Those are all Urgals?"

"I recognize the standard at the front. It belongs to a Urgal chieftain. Nasty piece of work."

"You know him?" Helena asked curiously.

"Oh sure, he and I go way back," Murtagh japed in a jovial, but hushed tone. "I encountered him when he was raiding the empire. He called me _human filth,_ then I asked if he was somehow related to that serving of mutton I ate yesterday, and if that was why he was so angry. We had great time trading insults as we were trying to cut each other to pieces. He even gave me a memento to mark the occasion." He pointed to his lower left abdomen where she guessed he must still have a scar from that fight under his clothes. "In all seriousness though, I don't know if they saw me, nor why they are here."

"You said the Urgals are working for Galbatorix?" Eragon reminded him.

"I know _some_ of the Urgals are working for Galbatorix," Murtagh corrected him. "I don't know if _all_ the Urgals work for him. They don't usually work together. They normally fight each other as much as they fight us. I don't see them bearing the empire's standard, but it could be they just don't want to advertise the alliance, or this could just be a prelude to a very large raid into Surda."

"Or they could be going after the Varden," Eragon said. "Arya gave me directions, and they are going in that general direction."

"Possibly," Murtagh granted, " _if_ they know where the Varden are, but if they don't, we risk leading them to them. I don't think the Varden will look kindly on us if we bring a horde of Urgals down on their heads."

"We _must_ take that chance," Eragon insisted. "I imagine that if we allowed our elf to die because of _maybes_ it would be far worse."

"Let's at least make an effort not to be seen by that army over there," Murtagh said. Nobody disagreed with that sentiment.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Eragon led them further east into the mountains. Godric – with Helena on his back – and Saphira kept an eye on the Urgal army from afar to see if they were following.

They were, though they couldn't be sure if the Urgals were actually following them or if they were simply heading in the same direction. Luckily a small group such as them was capable of traveling much faster than a large army. As long as they didn't send out smaller groups ahead of them to chase them down – something they hadn't done yet – they should be fine.

After several hours of flying. . .

'Come down,' Saphira told them, _'_ something has happened.' She sounded calm, so it couldn't be _that_ bad, Helena reasoned.

When they saw their group on the ground, they found Murtagh sitting with his back against a tree. He had one of his pant legs rolled upwards towards his knee. He held what looked to be a wet cloth against it. As they came closer, she saw it looked red from what she guessed was scrapes. ' _Did he fall of his horse?'_ she wondered. Ellie seemed to be sleeping a few feet away from him. _  
_  
"It's just a flesh wound, really not that bad," Murtagh said when she jumped down from Godric's back, and walked towards him. "It's not me that's the problem." He motioned to Ellie. "She is dead." Helena felt herself grow cold. "The travel was too much for her. Her heart gave out."

Helena let out a curse she had learned from Brom. "Why did we insist on pushing them so hard?!" She already knew why: they were racing against time, were reluctant to leave them behind, and the dragons seemed to have a problem with letting anyone but their riders fly with them under normal circumstances.

For Saphira, Brom and Arya seemed to be exceptions. Habit may also have something to do with it.

To make it worse, hadn't she promised Elladora that she would take care of her almost two months ago? Y _et another thing to feel guilty over,_ Helena thought bitterly. _As if struggling with my handling of the Murtagh situation wasn't bad enough._

"I am sorry for your loss," Eragon said carefully.

"As am I," Murtagh added tiredly. "I may have lost Tornac, but at least he is still alive somewhere. . . presumably anyway." He sighed. "So what now?"

Helena shot a look at her dragon. 'Please Godric. I am asking you.'

'Oh, very well,' he said reluctantly after several seconds. 'Just until we reach the Varden.'

She would have sighed with relief and thanked him normally, but this had put her in a bad mood. "Godric will carry you," she said to Murtagh.

Murtagh lowered his head. "I am honored."

'It is better this way,' Saphira said to them all, _'_ we will arrive within hours if we fly.' That was true, but Helena didn't want to see a silver lining; she wanted to feel terrible. She _should_ feel terrible.

"You're probably right," Eragon agreed, "Though I am loathe to leave Snowfire behind, I don't want to risk him collapsing too."

'Let's stop here for a while before we fly over to the Varden,' Saphira suggested. 'Neither Godric nor I have eaten in days. We need to hunt something.'

'And you humans could use the rest,' Godric added. 'I would prefer we arrive at the Varden well rested and with our wits sharp.'

"You know," Murtagh added slyly, "despite your insistence on going there, you really don't trust them do you?"

The question was directed primarily at Helena and Godric, but neither responded. Eragon looked at them worriedly.

"Show me that knee," she said to Murtagh, ignoring his question. "If it is just a flesh wound as you say, I'll probably be able to heal it, no problem."

Godric and Saphira went to hunt, though they always made sure one of them was within a sixty second flight from their position.

Eragon approached her after she fixed Murtagh's knee. "Helena. . . do you have something against the Varden." Murtagh also looked curiously at her. Helena got the impression that Eragon would rather talk to her alone, but when traveling together it was sometimes hard to find a private time to speak without being rude or obvious about it.

"No, of course not," Helena said, looking baffled. "You know I have never encountered them."

"You just don't talk about them like future allies. And they a _re_ future allies. I am not saying they are perfect, I don't know much about them really, but we have the same goals, don't we? "

"I am just cautious," Helena insisted. "Keep in mind that there is, at least, one traitor among the Varden according to Brom." She heard Murtagh sarcastically utter: 'wonderful, could have mentioned that earlier,' under his breath.

"Well. . . alright then." He still didn't look reassured.

"They will probably insist on reading your minds," Murtagh added. "I believe I mentioned this before to you, Helena, but most magic users make use of that talent. Will you let them?"

"No," she said immediately. "I don't want my abilities to become common knowledge just yet." She shot a look at Murtagh to make sure he understood. "I am not sure if I want my otherworldly origin to get out either." Though she didn't consider that as important.

"You should have some cover story then," Murtagh suggested.

"Can't I just act mysterious or something?" she pleaded. "I don't want to outright lie to them."

"You could, but you will have an even harder time getting them to trust you if you do."

She shrugged and waved the issue away. "I want to help them against Galbatorix. They would have to be mad to refuse my help. Their opinion of me is irrelevant."

Murtagh looked skeptical, and Eragon looked concerned.

"Well I do hope you are not expecting me to allow anyone in my mind. I have made my opinion on that clear."

"I don't like the idea, but Saphira tells me she can help shield parts of my mind from intrusion." Eragon said. "Couldn't you do the same with Godric?"

"I would need to shield eighteen years of my life and a lot of my travels here to protect all my secrets," she shot down the idea. "If I try that, it would be obvious what I was doing, and that would defeat the purpose."

"I see," he said sadly, "I will make sure to protect your secrets if it comes to it." He shot a look at Murtagh. "Both of you."

"I appreciated it," he said with a small twitch to the corner of his right lip. _Aww,_ _he is trying not to smile, adorable!_ Helena gushed internally, trying to let nothing of her thoughts show on her face. "They will probably find out eventually, but I really don't want to advertise it."

After that small discussion Eragon said goodbye to Snowfire and mentally directed the horse to go deeper into the mountains, away from the Urgal army.

They ate a good meal, and then tried to get some rest.

Later, though she couldn't tell exactly how much time had passed, Helena was shaken to awareness by Eragon.

"Someone is coming," he whispered, "Saphira is nearby, but is keeping out of sight." Helena noticed that he had ungloved his hand in preparation for spellcasting. Having the gedwëy ignasia visible wasn't necessary for spellcasting, but Eragon said it made things easier for him. Murtagh had his bow out, and had an arrow knocked – Helena guessed Eragon must have given him his own bow. Eragon had his magic to fall back on, and Murtagh was as good a shot as Eragon. Arya was lying a few feet from them in a spot of sunlight that shone through the leafy treetops. She was wrapped in blankets to hopefully help her preserve her strength.

Helena reached out to Godric and found out he was on his way, but it would take two minutes for him to get there. She rejected his proposed idea to apparate to his position so she would be safe. Judging by his lack of emotion at her response, he hadn't really expected her to agree to it.

There was no further time for discussion as over a dozen horses suddenly came into view and started to run in a circle around them. Helena tensed as the circles they ran appeared to grow smaller in size until they were surrounded by a ring of horses a little over fifty feet in diameter. Despite the skill with which they executed this maneuver, the group of horses seemed to be made up of men of varying levels of professionalism, as some looked stoic with crossbows leveled at them, while others simple jeered loudly at them. _Well that's not a good sign,_ Helena mused grimly.

A man with a mace on his belt on a chestnut colored horse raised his hand and signaled for his men – for she assumed he was the leader – to be quiet. "Nice," he projected with a loud and clear voice that Helena had come to associate with merchants and public speakers, "they look a bit disheveled, but still of far better quality than the usual dregs we find. Good work on spotting the signs Will," he nodded at a tall blonde man to his right. _Helena cursed internally_ ; she suspected she knew what this was about.

"Now as for you lot," the man addressed them for the first time, "throw down your weapons and nobody needs to get hurt." When they didn't move he smirked and added: "You are surrounded and have at least ten bolts aimed at you; you can't win."

"By what right do you stop us?" Murtagh demanded hotly. "We are free men traveling through these lands and have committed no crime."

"I stop you by right of the oldest law in existence, of course," the man smirked. "that of my weapons and numbers." He scoffed and his eyes glinted with amusement. "You should be grateful, there is a Urgal army nearby and you won't be able to outrun them on foot. We are your only hope to get out of here alive. Now here is a bit of sage advice: never again talk back to anyone. Your life will be more pleasant that way, and we might get a higher price. Everyone wins!" A round of laughter could be heard from the circle of men. "Now enough talking and throw down your weapons! I won't ask again, and any further delays will be met with unpleasant consequences."

Helena shot a look at her companions. Eragon looked angry and disgusted with their would-be captors while Murtagh's face could have been carved from stone for all the emotion it showed.

"You sure you want to mess with a magic user," she held up her open hand and created a fire a few inches above her palm that seemed to burn on nothing but air. She reasoned that the odds that these men had a magician with them as being very low, so she hoped this would be enough to intimidate them.

The man expression became fearful, though his eyes grew cold and calculating, and then he held up his hands in a placating gesture. "Now, now there no need for that." His little finger twitched. "I don't want no trouble with someo––"

Helena's head turned towards a whistling sound of something flying through the air at high speed. It wasn't any sort of conventional spell that saved her from the crossbow bolt, not even her new, more controlled intent-based magic. It was like whenever a magical child sometimes does magic by instinct whenever it is in danger. There was no thought, or conscientious effort, no control, nothing but a simple instinctual panic being fueled by magic.

With the sound of a cannon firing, a blast of pure energy moved out from her body like a wave with the purpose of pushing all things it touched away from her. The crossbow bolt stopped only an inch from her face and was blasted away. Since this wasn't a controlled spell it wasn't the only thing that was blasted away. Eragon – who still stood close to her – was thrown to the side by the blast wave. A cloud of dust and dirt was thrown up and obscured her vision. Helena herself was momentarily disoriented by being at the center of such an explosion.

She could hear the sound of Saphira roaring, and men screaming. With a wave of her hand she dispersed the dust cloud with a gust of wind. The slavers were in full retreat. Several of them were on the ground, including their leader; their horses leaving them behind to get away from Saphira as fast as possible.

Eragon was back on his feet already and was now hovering over her. His eyes carefully scanning his surroundings for any of the archers who might wish to fire a parting shot at them. When the sound of a bow firing was heard, his head snapped towards the sound to try and ward off any blows, though Helena probably could have protected herself at this point.

The sound didn't come from any of the slavers however. Murtagh – who stood protectively over Arya's prone body – had shot an arrow at the retreating back of one of the slavers. It hit, and the man fell with a cry of pain.

Murtagh drew another arrow to fire at another of the fleeing men. "Alright enough!" Eragon shouted at him. Murtagh paused. "The fight is over." Helena agreed with the sentiment; she knew Murtagh was a hard man, but this still shocked her a little.

Murtagh raised a curious eyebrow at them. "That man I fired on was running towards that Urgal army. He was probably death anyway, to say nothing of how _they_ attacked _us_." In the time it took for Eragon and Murtagh to have their argument, the man Murtagh wanted to fire on had darted out of the line of fire by putting a tree between them.

Murtagh clicked his tongue in annoyance. "They might warn that army out there."

"We will be long gone by then," Eragon said.

"I suppose," Murtagh conceded reluctantly. "What do you want to do with him," he said while pointing at the one man that was still on the ground – Will was his name, Helena remembered – his leg was twisted at an angle that meant it was broken; he clearly wasn't going anywhere by himself.

"Well, we are not going to just kill him," Eragon said vehemently. "Just leave him."

Murtagh gave him a sharp smile. "So instead of killing him quickly, you will be leaving a defenseless and wounded man alone for the Urgals to find? My, my, how ruthless you are Eragon."

"Your father would no doubt be proud of that logic."

"Enough," Helena snapped at them; both turned to look at her, Murtagh looked at her defiantly and Eragon looked at her. . . with fear? _He worries that I will disagree with him again, like before,_ Helena guessed.

There was no need for him to worry. "I will try to fix his leg." Broken bones weren't normally something she felt comfortable healing with magic, but if she was ever going to experiment on a live human body, now would be the time. She didn't feel a whole lot of sympathy for the slaver so a failure wouldn't be as bad now. Though she had no intention of killing him now, as Murtagh seemed to be suggesting.

Eragon looked relieved, and Murtragh looked incredulous. "After what they did you want to actually heal one of them?"

"I'll not be hurtin' anyone again! I promise!" the man whose life they were discussing yelled in clear desperation.

"Shut up, you're not involved in this discussion," Murtagh dismissed the man with a wave, much to his dismay. Murtagh turned back to Eragon and Helena. "If it helps, think of how many others they have already hurt before this. This is justice when you look at it a certain way."

That argument did seem to make Eragon doubt himself, though Helena wasn't convinced. "I won't become an executioner," she said, and started walking towards the wounded man.

"The Riders of old were judges in their time," Murtagh tried, "If you want to rebuilt them, you would have that authority. Perhaps even the duty."

"No. It's my decision," she said firmly and crouched down and held her hand over the wounded leg. "Now be quiet, all of you," she steadied her breathing and tried to focus her mind. This truly was at the edge of her capabilities with healing magic – beyond it actually. It would be much, _much_ safer if she could brew Skele-Gro, but there wasn't time. " _Brackium Emendo,_ " she whispered softly.

After Lockhart had made a mess of her arm by vanishing her bones with 'Brackium Emendo', and Hermione _still_ wasn't willing to admit he was a useless fraud, Helena had gone to Madam Pomfrey in the hopes of proving that the 'spell' he used was just some made up gibberish. Much to her surprise, it actually _was_ a real spell. It was simply a really difficult one that only qualified healers were allowed to perform, requiring a great deal of knowledge on the structure of bones to master. Sadly, that was knowledge that she didn't have. She hoped the increased intend factor would help her; she didn't particularly care for this man, but she knew, with a mixture of stubbornness and conviction, that this was the _right_ thing to do. It would have to be enough.

She opened her eyes and found that she had succeeded. Her patient was looking at his unbroken leg in wonder. He turned to her, and when she saw the near reverence in his red-rimmed brown eyes, she _knew_ she had done the right thing. The man opened his mouth, but no words came out.

She grabbed the man by neck of his shirt, and looked him deep in the eyes. "Maybe I should have killed you, or just leave you hear to die. I didn't. You are alive because of the mercy of another. Because I thought your life had value. Do not prove me wrong."

"Yes! Yes! Thank you!" the man scrambled to his feet and into the forest, making sure to give Murtagh a wide berth.

Murtagh gave her an unimpressed look, "You really think that was wise?"

She gazed at the man's retreating back and spoke softly: "The quality of mercy is never strained. It blesses those that give and those that take." Because of Hermione's understandable love of Shakespeare, she inevitably learned a few quotes.

About fifteen feet away from her Godric growled. While it wasn't in any way threatening growl, merely something to draw attention, she still jumped a little; she hadn't seen him arrive. _He must have gotten here when I was concentrating on my spell. '_ Five minutes! Five measly minutes! I can't go and hunt something for five bloody minutes, without you almost dying!'

'I survived,' she said somewhat petulantly.

'Pure luck and you know it,' he snarled. She _did_ know that; that stunt she pulled with the crossbow bolt wasn't something that could be relied upon. 'That's it. I'm done. You are not leaving my sight ever again. The next time I hunt, you will just have to come with me. The next time you need to use the bathroom I will be watching just in case your own feces doesn't spontaneously evolve sentience and tries to strangle you!"

Helena couldn't help but wrinkle her nose in disgust at that mental image.

Godric looked towards the direction that some of the men had fled in, and his muscles tenses in way that she recognized meant he was preparing to take off.

"No!" Her shout was both mental and physical. 'You'll let them go.'

Godric turned to her and she saw a challenge in his eyes. 'Helena, please keep in mind that you do not _command_ me.'

She met his challenge head on. Her mind reached out to confront his. Yhey didn't strictly speaking 'fight' the way she sometimes mentally sparred with Eragon, but it was nonetheless a contests off will – of two opposite convictions meeting and seeing who would yield first. _'You. Will. Let. Them. Go.'_

This was the first that they had ever disagreed so vehemently about a course of actions like this. When Godric chose to prioritize her when he flew away from the Ra'zac, Helena had been unconscious and in no position to object. When she had warned Godric away from attacking Teirm she had eventually been able to convince him with reason that caution was best. Now, she knew that there would be no convincing him. Just as sure as he surely knew that he would not convince her.

They had won. The fight was over. Killing them now in cold blood was wrong. Mercy is a virtue whenever you can afford it.

They had tried to capture his Rider with every intention of selling her into slavery. They had almost killed her. They _must_ die.

She had no idea how long they faced off like this; time seemed to lose all meaning. Eventually she felt Godric back down from her, saying, _'By your will, Helena.'_ And in that moment, Helena felt the relationship between them shift slightly.

As soon as her mind fully returned to her body Helena fell towards the ground on her hands and knees, and started breathing heavily, beads of sweat rolling down her face. Her heart felt heavy, and a feeling of immense sorrow came upon her, and she found herself having to fight back tears. _Why did it have to come to that?_

Eragon focus was on her, looking at her with his usual amount of concern. Murtagh seemed confused. Saphira was looking from Helena to Godric, seeming utterly fascinated by the exchange between them, but now that it was over she led out a soft growl.

'We should move on,' she said impatiently, 'it won't be long until the scouts of the Urgals find us. They have no doubt found your tracks at this point. The sooner we fly away from here, the safer we shall be.' _  
_  
"Agreed," Eragon said, "The sooner we arrive at the Varden, the sooner we can give Arya her Túnivor's Nectar." He went to bind Arya to Saphira's saddle.

Helena shakily pushed herself to her feet and took a deep breath to calm herself. "Alright, come on Murtagh, go get your. . ." she remembered that Murtagh no longer had any possessions except what he carried on his person since Gil'ead. "–ass in gear, and get on Godric's back." Judging by his bitter smile, she knew he had caught what she had originally planned to say.

From that point on they flew the rest of the journey, Godric trailing behind Saphira who – by sharing Eragon's memories of his interaction with Arya – knew the way.

When they first rose into the sky, they discovered that a small – relatively speaking – group of Urgals had detached itself from the main army and was heading in the direction they had been in just moments before. No doubt they would have chased them all the way to the Varden had they traveled over land. As it was, Saphira estimated that they would arrive at their destination within an hour, and would have little to fear from the Urgals. No group traveling over land could ever keep up with an airborne dragon.

It wasn't completely smooth flying however. The directions Eragon had received were of a land route. The tall trees made it difficult to make out any clues, and they had to double back on their path three times to make sure they were still heading in the right direction. Saphira and Eragon had at one point gotten the idea to rise as high as possible in the hopes of spotting their destination from afar, but luckily, Helena was able to warn Saphira about the dangers of flying past a certain height.

Despite that, they still made the journey in only a fraction of time it would otherwise have taken.

No matter her reservation about the wisdom of continuing to fight over a done matter, she couldn't bear this silence. There were also some things she felt still needed to be said.

"You shouldn't have killed that man that was running away."

"This again?" Murtagh scoffed from behind her. She had applied a sticking charm to his pants so she didn't risk him falling off the saddle. It was not build for two people in mind. He had his hands on her shoulders to steady himself. "Why do you care so much? He attacked us, wanted to sell us into slavery. He has undoubtedly done it before. He deserved to die."

"This isn't about him and what he may or may not have deserved. It is about you, and the ease with which you can apparent kill someone who doesn't pose any threat to you."

"I won't lose any sleep over it."

"My point exactly."

"You think I enjoy this?" he accused. She didn't think that and had never even implied such. When she saw his expression after he shot the arrow she didn't see any enjoyment in him. In fact, she didn't see _any_ emotion on him at all. "The man was an enemy. You can't afford to show your enemies any mercy, or else they will win. No stranger's life is worth more than your own. You must be willing to protect yourself, and all that you hold precious at any cost, lest it be taken from you."

"Is that what you tell yourself at night?" she taunted. "The fight was clearly over; you can't claim self-defense here."

"What do you know about it? You have no idea what I have been through!" he snapped, the hands on her shoulders tightened their grip almost painfully. "My life has been in constant peril since before I was even born. Every day of my life I had to fear for my safety. Morzan had many enemies in the court, and I inherited all of them – at least when that secret was revealed when I was five and Morzan was already dead, and they didn't need to fear angering him. Before that, it was Morzan himself who I had to fear. I had to be strong to survive."

"Strong?" she sneered. "Is that what you call it? Ruthlessness is not strength, Murtagh."

"What give you the right to judge me?" he sneered right back at her. "What would you know about any of it?"

"You have no idea what I have been through!" she threw his own words back at him.

"Sometimes I wonder," he said, sounding calmer, but there was a suspicious undertone in his voice. "You keep hinting at this great turmoil, of trials you have experienced, but I have my doubts. No person who has ever experienced true hardship, who has experienced the full cruelty and callousness of their fellow men could ever be as soft as you."

"Is that your reasoning? The world sucks, people suck, my life sucks, so it is okay for you to suck at well?" To illustrate what she thought of that, she uttered a vile curse that she had only learned since coming to Alagaësia. "You are still ultimately alone with your actions. So you have a sad backstory boohoo. Well guess what? You are not the only one who has had it rough. Sometimes, Murtagh, when people encounter cruelty and hate, the result isn't always more of the same. Sometimes when people are exposed to all the evils of the world, they are instead inspired to be even better people in defiance of it all." She thought of her godfather who had grown up in one of the most hateful families she had ever heard of, besides the Gaunts. By all rights he should have become a monster, instead he said no to it all. Even after he went to Azkaban and was exposed to nothing but misery for thirteen years he never gave up. Oh, she knew he wasn't perfect of course. He definitely had a few screws loose at the end, but at his core he remained a compassionate person. Except to Snape, of course, but well… Snape was Snape; she too could never bring herself to actually like the guy, even after learning about his past. A douche is a douche, regardless of his reasons for being a douche. That was her entire point.

"I'm not an evil man! I am not my father! I bet Eragon wouldn't have done half as well in my shoes."

"Perhaps, but not being an evil man isn't the same as being a good one." She ignored the part where he compared himself to Eragon.

"I am going to the Varden aren't I? What more do you want from me?!"

"This isn't about what I want." She ignored Murtagh's derisive snort from behind her. "This is about what kind of man you want to become. About making sure that you won't have any regrets in a few years."

"I am content with who I am," he said coolly.

"Very well," she sighed, the sound of it being lost in the blowing of the wind.

They settled into an uneasy silence, and – as it often did in these quiet moments – Helena mind wandered.

 _Why do I care so much?_ She had never gotten this upset over all the people back home who didn't fight in the blood war. Nor did she get upset when she learned that some of her old friends had gone to some extreme lengths during the second blood war. _Is Godric right? Do I view Murtagh as some personal project of mine? And more importantly, if so, is it wrong that I am trying to make him a better man? Argh! I wish Dumbledore were here! He'd know what to say._

Eventually they arrived at a small valley and what Eragon said was called Lake _Kóstha-mérna_. It was a very large lake surrounded by a pebbled beach. It stretched the entire length of the valley, ending at both sides in a very small strip of land that was just wide enough to allow two people to walk on side by side. The mountain walls on all sides were nearly vertical, and would be next to impossible to climb.

Saphira and Godric both landed near the waterfall where Arya's memories indicated the entrance to be. The small stretch of land they were on wasn't nearly large of enough for a dragon, let alone two, and they both had half their bodies submerged in water.

They all quickly dismounted and followed Eragon to what looked vaguely like the outline of a very large doorway that they never would have found if they didn't know what they were looking for.

Eragon put his hand on a small rock that protruded slightly from the cliff and said loud and clear, "A warden of the Riders lacks passage!" and pounded on the cliff face.

They waited.

And waited.

And waited.

"Are you sure this is the right place?" Helena asked Eragon.

"I think so. . ." he trailed of, shooting a glance at Saphira.

'This is the right place. I also saw your memories; I made sure.'

"Perhaps they are posturing?" Murtagh suggested halfheartedly. "In politics they sometimes make you wait just because they can. It is meant to establish a power dynamic. Like: 'I can make you wait because you are just not that important'."

"Bugger that," Helena said, disgusted at the possibility. "We got a sick person in need of urgent treatment. Step back, both of you." This was the last day that Arya had claimed she would be able to safely hold out for. The sun was still in no danger of setting, but they shouldn't take chances.

She placed her hands on the cliff and unleashed the most powerful unlocking charm that she could, exactly like she had done when the Ra'zac ambushed them, except more focused.

The rough sound of rock grinding against rock signaled the door opening inwards, creating a twelve foot tall opening in the mountain beyond which lay a tunnel that was even larger – about thirty feet by her best estimate. A line of square lamps that filled the entire passageway with a dim blue light that was barely noticeable with the scattered daylight that illuminated the tunnel.

With a smug smile she turned around, resting one hand on her hipbone and the other being held palm open next to her head like some tour guide presenting an interesting landmark. "Boys, may I present to you––" She was cut off when she heard something heavy land behind her. The eyes of her two companions grew wide. Before she could turn around she was being pulled roughly backward and off balance; an arm went around her neck, and she felt the point of a knife poking against her jugular.

"Make one wrong move and I slit her throat!"

 _Well. . . aren't we off to a nice start._

Someday, she would look back on this moment and think that – while it may not be a _'nice'_ start to her dealings with the Varden – it could, sadly, be considered an _appropriate_ one.

* * *

 **AN:  
Snofire and Tornac are top the bell curve level warhorses, and they nearly died in canon during that race. Elladora was simply not on that level.  
I wonder how much grief people will give me for speaking ill of Snape.  
**


	16. Allies? (Part 1)

**Special thanks to my beta CerealReader. He/She is being a real hero by slogging through my sludge of a first (or even second) drafts**

* * *

The man that had captured her clearly knew what he was doing. She was being forced to stand with her back arched backwards in an awkward angle. The arm around her neck wasn't just a threat, but also the only thing keeping her standing. In her position, it would be impossible to gain any leverage to throw off or escape her captor.

"None of you even try to use magic! I will know if you are drawing upon it. You can't hide anything from me!" She didn't know if that was true, but she didn't want to risk it in her precarious position unless she had no other choice. One slip of her captor's hand and his knife would slice through her jugular.

Because her head was held at such an odd angle, she had a clear upwards view of her captor. He was a very tall bald man with thin eyebrows and nose, dressed in a robe that looked similar to her own clothes; except where her robe was of a black color with purple outlines, his robe was purple with gold outlines. His face was cleanly shaven; an oddity in this world, she had found.

She carefully tried to raise her head slightly, and out of the corner of her eye she saw Murtagh and Eragon standing near the water's edge, both sending hostile gazes at the bald man's face. Saphira was crouching down – the position she most often took when preparing for combat from a grounded position; it reminded Helena of a cat waiting to pounce. Godric on the other hand hadn't moved at all. He stood completely frozen, but his eyes – which were normally orange and reminded her of a warm sun at dawn – now looked completely red like blood, and they burned with a hatred that she couldn't bear to look at. She knew that only the knife at her throat was preventing him from tearing the bald man to pieces. Her mind tried to touch Godric's, hoping to calm him, but she instinctively flinched back from the contact. His rage was like a blazing fire and her mind a hand that tried to feel the flames.

From behind her she heard the sound of heavy footsteps and the rattle of bouncing chain mail.

"Two!" she heard a gruff voice yell from that direction. "What trickery is this!"

"We shall know soon enough," her captor said in a silky voice that reminded her of Lucius Malfoy at his slimiest. "Remove your weapons and slide them towards the dwarf to my right." _A dwarf?_

Considering the lack of hospitality they were receiving, she considered handing over their weapons to be extraordinarily bad idea. "Do not––" She began, but was cut off when she was shaken roughly by the man holding her.

"You will not speak! Off everyone here, you are the most suspicious." She looked up and found the man glaring at her with eyes so dark they looked almost like charcoal, only the vaguest hint of brown being visible. He turned back towards her friends. "I will not ask again. Hand over your weapons or else!"

'I vow, if any of you hurt her,' she heard Godric project his voice towards all present. She had never heard Godric's voice so menacing before. It wasn't a hot kind of anger, but a chilling biting fury, as unstoppable and inescapable as winter. 'I shall tear all the skin from your flesh. I shall shatter your bones and pour sand into the wounds. I will make sure you live through the process. And once I am done, I shall take the shattered remnants of your mortal coil, and with it, and over the ashes of all your hopes and dreams, I shall forge a giant monument of my Rider.'

The man's grip loosed slightly, but he restored it only a moment later. If she hadn't been so distracted by the torrent of emotion she could feel flowing from Godric, even though their minds weren't touching, she might have been able to take advantage of that small window of opportunity. The anger he felt bordered on madness and it scared her. "Ye–y– ye won't. I have your rider at knife point, so. . . and I am not really hurting her yet, so . . ." the bald man trailed off nervously.

"vrron! Enough! Nobody needs to get hurt today," she heard the other voice – the dwarf she guessed – speak in a commanding tone. In a voice so small she wasn't sure she didn't imagine it, he added, " _I hope_." Back in a louder voice. "Please forgive our suspicions, but this situation is most." He paused as if unsure what this situation _'most'_ was. "unexpected," he decided eventually. "We find it hard to imagine any circumstances that could lead to not _one_ but _two_ riders appearing on our doorstep. And what few possibilities that we can think of bode very ill for us indeed."

"We are not here to cause trouble," Eragon said. his voice was so level and slow that it was obvious he was trying hard to remain calm.

"I would _very_ much like to believe that," he said in a voice so hopeful that she was sure he truly meant it. "but we must be certain."

"The elf," Murtagh said simply.

"Oh yea," Eragon said in tone that implied he had forgotten about the very reason they came here. She didn't blame him. She too had been kind of distracted by the knife at her throat. "We have an elf. Arya. She is sick and needs Tunivor's _Nectar."_

"Arya," he exclaimed. He had moved close enough now that Helena could catch a glimpse and confirm that the man was, indeed, a dwarf. True to stereotype, he was slightly smaller than her but much more broad and had a beard. "The dragon-egg courier?"

"Yes. We saved her," Eragon said, "and we wouldn't have been able to without her," Eragon motioned with his head towards Helean. "Let her go!"

A hitherto silent man moved to the side so he had a better look at Saphira's flank and saw her saddle where Arya was bound. He made sure to always keep a large distance from both Godric and Saphira. _Pointless, dragons are a lot faster than they look. If they want to kill you, a few dozen feet won't make a difference,_ Helena thought. "It's true Orik! They have an Elf."

"Mmm, that at least speaks well of you," the now named Orik said with obvious approval.

'Let. Her. Go.' Godric's voice was quiet but nobody could ever miss the threat in it.

"For all I know, you will attack as soon as she is safe," the bald man seemed to have regained some of his courage. "You must all be tested first. If you are trustworthy then you will have nothing to fear."

"First, me must move inside," the dwarf said. "There are an unfortunate amount of Urgals in the area. We must go inside where it is safe. More importantly, we must see that the egg courier is taken care of."

"You are not in command here," the bald man hissed.

"You disagree, Egraz Carn?"

"No," The bald man wrinkled his nose as if he hated to agree with his ally(?) on anything. "You!" He nodded at the man that had confirmed Arya's presence. "You heard him. Get the elf down from there and bring her to the healers." The man scrambled to obey the order. Next, he shot an annoyed glare at her companions. "And you still haven't disarmed."

Eragon gave the man a disdainful look, "You have a knife to my friend's throat. You will forgive me if I don't entirely trust you. We will keep our weapons." Apparently, with Godric's threats hanging over them, he now thought that Helena wasn't in any immediate danger, and so could afford a bit of resistance.

The man gave Eragon a considering look. "If I let her go, will you disarm and come with us?"

Eragon and Murtagh shared a glance. Slowly, hesitantly, Murtagh nodded. "We will," Eragon said.

"And you will tell your dragon to behave," the bald whispered harshly into her ear.

'Godric please, for all our sakes.' Helena pleaded.

'I won't attack as long as she remains unharmed,' Godric promised.

The man looked down at her and then towards Godric. "Very well." He removed the dagger from her throat and removed his arm from her neck, pushing her strait so she wouldn't fall. She quickly ran forward and took her place to Godric's right. She ran a hand over his scales to reassure and hopefully calm him down. _I guess,_ _since Eragon believed he wasn't willing to harm me and risk Godric's wrath, he figured I lost my value as a hostage,_ she thought.

True to their word, Murtagh and Eragon removed their scabbards and slid them towards Orik who nodded at them. "You will get them back later."

"That will be a matter for Ajihad to decide," the bald man said.

Helena wasn't listening however and was focused on Godric. 'Please calm down; I am safe.' He had relaxed visibly once she was free, but she could tell he was still angry. Thankfully, his eyes had reverted back to their normal orange.

'Must we go with these people? Once we enter their nest it may be difficult to escape.'

'They are not our enemies.'

'They obviously aren't our friends yet either.'

'We need allies.'

Wordlessly, Helena felt him acquiesce to her will, though he remained tense. Still, she made sure to take a good long look at her surroundings, trying to engrave the picture in her mind in case she needed to apparate here to escape.

After Arya was brought down from Saphira and then carried out by several members of the Varden, the bald man motioned for them to go into the mountain.

On the bald man's directions Helena, Eragon, Murtagh, Saphira and Godric all shuffled into cavern. More nervous looking armed men had arrived, and they now surrounded them from all sides. _Just like with slavers from before,_ Helena thought, _regardless of our comparative skill, we are put at an obvious disadvantage. If everyone attacks us from all directions at the same time, we would be overwhelmed unless we get very lucky._

With a feeling of inevitability, the stone door shut itself behind her. Now the dull blue lanterns were the only source of light available. Saphira was still clearly visible, but because blue light did not reflect on his red scales, Godric was now cloaked in shadows.

They were shepherded through a smaller side corridor where the dragons had to pass single file to get through. After several turns – but not enough that they wouldn't be able to find their way back – they arrived at a large white marble room where even more warriors were waiting for them. Many of them watched Helena's group suspiciously with narrowed eyes and hands that where twitching to reach for their weapons. On closer examination, Helena realized that it wasn't so much _them_ that they were watching but mainly Godric.

"This is far enough," the bald man said, "Now for the testing." The small smile on his face made Helena uncomfortable.

"Testing?" Eragon asked.

"Yes, you will remove all defenses around your mind and allow me to inspect your memories to make sure you don't work for Galbatorix." For some reason the man looked uncertainly towards her. "Don't try to resist, it will be worse if you do."

Helena had another idea. "There is no need for that. Vae eru néiat onr fjandi."

The bald man hissed when she began the ancient language. "Do not speak that tongue unless you want to be riddled with arrows girl!"

"What did she say?" Orik asked the bald man.

"I don't know," baldy responded. _What?_ "I recognize it as the Ancient language, but I don't know the exact meaning. She said: 'I am not your something', but what that something is, I don't know."

"Fjandi means enemy, Egraz Carn." She had heard Orik call him by that moniker and so she guessed that might be his name or title. "I said: we are not your enemy."

Eragon whispered in her ear. "Be careful about handing out knowledge of the Ancient Language." She gave a short nod, though she wasn't sure she agreed.

Baldy turned up his nose at her "So you say. How do we know you are not lying? And Egraz Carn is not my name."

"Egraz Carn is Dwarvish for Bald One," Orik explained.

"Then. . .?" she trailed off.

"I have no name," Baldy proclaimed with pride. "Names can give others power over you, so I discarded mine long ago. Now no more distractions, you will all allow me to examine your thoughts."

Eragon and Helena shared a glance. They had discussed this possibility already, and so Eragon agreed without further protest. They needed at least one of them to be above reproach if they wanted to gain entry, and Eragon was the one with the least secrets, and what few he did have Saphira could help him hide.

Eragon let out a pained gasp when it began. Helena knew that having someone forcibly go through your memories could be painful, but Eragon's pain seemed too much to be a simple byproduct, and she longed to put a stop to it.

After about thirty second she couldn't take it anymore. "Stop! You're hurting him!" The bald man didn't respond, the glazed look in his eyes indicating that he might not be ignoring her so much as he was incapable of hearing her.

"He can't hear you lass," the dwarf confirmed her thoughts in his gruff voice. He looked unhappy as well. "Their minds are elsewhere."

 _Well,_ she thought, _if I can't get his attention by yelling. . ._

With very slow deliberate shuffling steps she made her way over to the bald man, keeping a careful eye on all present, giving everyone plenty of opportunity to stop her if they wanted. All of them tensed and looked uncertainly towards Orik who had one hand on his weapon and the other half raised as if preparing to give a signal, but made no other moves to stop her. There was a warning in his gaze, however, telling her not to do anything drastic or there would be consequences.

Once she reached the man that was hurting her friend she pulled her hand behind her shoulder, and then delivered a haymaker punch in the man's gut. Something that was only possible due to their large difference in size. His body bend itself around her first, and his mouth opened wide in a stifled gasp of pain.

She hurried back towards Eragon who was swaying heavily, giving him a shoulder to lean on.

As soon as the bald man recovered, he glared from her to Orik. "Why didn't you stop her," the words were coming out pained and he was still bent over and clutching his stomach.

'Thank you,' Saphira commented to her, _'_ I would have done something myself, but I fear they would have reacted a lot worse if I had attacked.'

"I am sorry," Orik sadly shook his head as he tried and failed to sound sincere. "It all happened so fast; there was nothing I could do." Helena looked around at all the warriors present and noticed that none of them looked terribly upset at what she had done. "More importantly, did you see enough?"

The bald man spat. "I didn't complete my examination."

"Does he work for Galbatorix or not? Surely you should have found out that much."

He gritted his teeth, "No. He is loyal only to himself and his companions."

Helena frowned. While that was technically true as of yet, it implied a certain selfishness that Eragon simply didn't have. She knew that Eragon, just like her, wanted to help. She had hoped that after Eragon was examined he would be above reproach, and so would be able to vouch for both her and Murtagh. With such a halfhearted assertion of Eragon's stance, however, that wouldn't work.

"Now it is your turn," The nameless man gave her a sharp smile and she knew that he was looking forward to paying her back for that punch.

"No."

The man's smile grew even wider, but then Godric growled and he lost his smile. He looked around the room and seemed to draw courage from the large number of armed men that were present.

"You can't get around it lass," Orik said sternly, "nobody enters Farthen Dûr without being tested. We know you are capable of magic; that makes you many times as dangerous as a normal man. We can't allow you entry without some assurances. Besides, unless I am mistaken, the red dragon is yours; that makes you the most suspicious. The Egraz Carn was right about that."

Baldy shot a look towards Orik who nodded at him. He backed away so that he stood closer to a line off warriors who all looked nervous but determined. "If you do not cooperate, I will take what I must by force!"

'Don't interfere Godric. I can handle this.'

'I will try. But if he hurts you like he did Eragon, I am not sure I will be able to hold myself back. This day has been chafing at my self-control.'

Helena flinched knowing that she was partly to blame for that, but she soon steadied herself; she couldn't afford to be distracted right now.

She cleared her thoughts of everything but the song 'Double Trouble' that she played in her head. Focusing on that song allowed her to withstand his initial push into her mind. His mental push was strong, very strong; she would guess that his was stronger than Eragon's even, but she was better still. Once she withstood that initial battering she instead went on the offensive, launching her conscience toward the bald man like a spear. When he realized what she was doing he didn't brace himself by focusing on a singular thing like she expected, instead clearing his mind completely as Snape had tried to teach her. She tried to find something, _anything_ , to give her an opening but found nothing to hold onto. Eventually, she retreated towards her own mind and focused back on her song. If he planned to attack again he would need to stop that Occlumency technique he was doing. She knew you couldn't both attack and use that trick at the same time.

No new attack came. She opened her eyes and noticed that the bald man still had his eyes closed, his middle and ring finger held in front of his face as if in meditation. After a few seconds, he also opened his eyes.

"Well?" Orik asked him.

"I…. I don't think I can beat her like this," the man said slowly. "There something inhuman about her mind. I don't want to risk going against her. Not without my other being present at the very least."

Orik looked troubled but didn't say anything more.

"Look," Everyone's attention snapped to Eragon when he opened his mouth. "We came here to deliver Arya. Helena helped me rescue her. That should count for something, right?"

The bald man sneered at her "For all we know the empire simply _gave_ you the elf when they took all the information they needed from her. After she had served her purpose, they wiped her memory and gave her to you so you could use her to infiltrate us. More importantly, there was only one free egg and it was blue. That means that her dragon comes from one of Galbatorix's eggs, meaning that she is extremely likely to be working for him."

Helena had no idea how to respond to that. When he put it like that, they really didn't have any reason to trust her and every reason to be suspicious. What was she supposed to say? My egg appeared out of nothingness? When she looked back on it, it was amazing that Brom trusted her as much as he did. Then she remembered that he _didn't_ trust her until she gave him assurances in the Ancient Language.

"I could always just leave if you want," she offered halfheartedly.

The bald man looked at her as if he couldn't believe her nativity. "No."

She shrugged. Well it was worth a shot and she didn't want to leave anyway; it would be like giving up and she didn't know where else to go. If things got ugly she could always simply apparate out. . . Though, the problem with that was that she couldn't take Godric with her when she did that.

'You should have thought about that before now,' he snapped at her.

'Yea, yea,' she returned obtusely. She still didn't think coming here was a bad decision. However much they might grumble about it, the Varden needed a rider/dragon pair to fight Galbatorix. They had to know Eragon was unlikely to help them if they just chopped her head off, so she should still be safe.

Baldy addressed Orik again, sounding more polite and respectful than she thought him capable of. "I need to contact my other to inform Ajihad of the situation. When I do I won't be able to defend my mind if the woman decides to attack. Do I have your word you will lead the men in attacking her if she does?"

The dwarf looked at her so she responded. "I promise I won't."

Not looking away from her, the dwarf said, "And I will lead the charge if her word proves false."

Baldy looked towards the ceiling and closed his eyes, his lips moving soundlessly for several minutes.

In the meantime, Helena moved in between the two dragons where Murtagh sat near one of Saphira's paws, the eyes of almost every man in the room following her every step. She sat down next to him; if they were going to get attacked it wouldn't matter if she was standing or not. Eragon also appeared to have the same idea and joined them, though he remained standing, leaning against Saphira's leg.

"Do you think that with all the commotion you're causing they will just forget about me?" Murtagh whispered, that small familiar cynical smile on his face that indicating that he didn't believe he could ever be that lucky.

"No hushed conversations!" Orik shouted at them. "If you have something to say, then say it so all can hear."

Helena shot a glance at the dwarf. He seemed much more reasonable than the bald man, but he was clearly not on her side. She knew that he had good reason for his suspicion, but it was still hard not to be annoyed by it. She hadn't done anything to deserve this hostility beyond existing.

They waited in silence until the baldy finished his silent conversation and opened his eyes. "Ajihad will meet with the male rider, alone."

"You are not separating us," Eragon insisted.

Baldy gave a small mocking smile. "Ajihad guessed you might say that. In that case the others may come as well, but be aware that the meeting place will be surrounded by warriors, and every single magician of any talent we have will be nearby in case of treachery."

The man's gaze landed on Murtagh, and he smiled. "Ah, I had nearly forgotten about you. Compared to the others you are quite insignificant after all. Prepare to be examined!"

Murtagh remained seated on the marble ground, resting his chin on his propped-up knee, giving baldy an unimpressed look. "You won't have any more luck with me than you did with her."

Helena feared Murtagh was underestimating him. She had experienced both Murtagh's defenses and felt the bald man's attack, and she honestly didn't know who would win.

Baldy gave him a sharp smile. "We shall see about that."

As soon as he said that Murtagh tensed, his eyes closed, teeth clenching, and his features contorted in concentration. He seemed to be succeeding, judging by the frustrated expression on baldy's face.

It didn't stop, however, and Murtagh expression slowly changed from focused to pained. In many ways, he was in a worse position than she had been, since Murtagh couldn't retaliate; he could only endure. From what she knew of Murtagh and how zealously he defended himself against mental attacks, Baldy would only succeed in breaking into his mind by completely shattering it.

This time Eragon interfered before she could. "Stop! You're hurting him."

Orik – who had already been watching the struggle with a sense disapproval – seemed to agree with him and went over to shake baldy out of his concentration.

Baldy wobbled unsteadily and then looked at Orik in rage. "How dare you! Again, you interfere with my examination! This is getting dangerously close to insubordination Orik. Do you think Ajihad will approve of your actions?"

"You would have killed him. Even I could see that."

"You would let yet another dangerous individual pass without inspection?! This situation is dangerous enough as it is."

"Can he use magic? At this point that's all that matters." Orik shot another warning look at their group. "One disarmed person amidst thousands of warriors will hardly make a difference."

 _Alright, you're prepared. We get it already, geez._

By now Helena guessed it was late afternoon. She suspected that if they had arrived any later they would probably have needed to spend the night here in this room, unless Ajihad was willing to work night hours. _That might have been better actually. We are all so on edge and exhausted from our travels. A night's rest would have done us good._ They had made it clear that they wouldn't let them speak in private, and there was nothing she wished to say with so many listening in. She would talk to Godric, but after their spat with the slavers they. . . well it was bad, and this wasn't the right time to open up that wound to let the poison out.

So instead she closed her eyes and contacted Eragon via the mental télé. 'Thanks for not agreeing to leave us behind.'

The emotions that she could feel from him were some mix between amusement and indignation. 'Did you really think I would?'

'Well no, but that doesn't mean I'm not grateful for it. I imagine Murtagh feels the same.'

Embarrassment. "It was nothing." Curiosity, weariness. _'_ How are you doing? I can sense your unease.'

'I'm fine.'

Skepticism. _'_ Even without the Ancient language, it is difficult to lie when speaking like this. Is it the Varden? I don't like how they are treating you.'

'No. I expected it. I am not happy, but I expected it. As long as you make it clear that we are a packaged deal, I don't think I am in any real danger from them.'

'What is it then?'

She hesitated and then decided to confide. 'Godric and I are having some problems. No, I don't think you can help. We must deal with it ourselves.'

'It's that thing with the slavers isn't it? For what it's worth, I think you did the right thing.'

'What did Saphira think about it?'

'She agreed with Murtagh and Godric, I think, but she doesn't feel very strong about it one way or another. As far as she is concerned, the matter is done and dwelling on it serves no purpose.'

'Wise.'

Pride and smugness. 'I know.'

She couldn't suppress a snort. She hoped to hide the fact that she was communicating as she was. That she was sitting and had her eyes closed helped, but someone observant enough might still be able to read her body language.

'Just remember,' he continued. 'The reason you even had an argument was because you love each other. I have no doubt that Godric's wrath was entirely on your behalf.'

Helena felt the corners of her mouth go upward. 'Look at you. I remember a stuttering boy back in Tierm hanging on my every word and here you are now; giving me advice.'

Warmth. Happiness. 'I speak the truth.' It was weird talking about these things in such a way. Talking mentally in a way that allowed them to feel the others emotions was probably a more intimate act than a kiss could ever be. It wasn't as perfect as with Godric; Eragon and she were more capable of hiding things from each other if they so wished. They could only feel each other's emotions because they allowed it, but it was still significant.

'I know. And you are right. But there is more to this. I forced him to follow a command he did not wish to follow. I **ordered** him against his will and he obeyed.' It seemed that despite saying that she didn't think he could help, they were going to talk about this anyway.

'Ah. I see.' A pause. _'_ Would you follow a command he gave you?'

She projected a feeling of uncertainty to him. 'I don't know. It would depend on the order I suppose.'

'I think that, in that one instance, you simply cared more about it than he did. That is why he listened. If ever he cared more about something than you did, you would follow him, even if you didn't want to. You are still equals.'

She considered that. She didn't think it was just a matter of who cared more. Godric backed down from her that time not because she cared more about the issue than he did, because she honestly didn't think that she did. Godric had been _really_ pissed off. Her choice was based on principle while his was personal. If anything, he had wanted those men dead more than she wanted them spared. He obeyed because he cared more about pleasing her, about keeping her happy, than he did about doing what he wanted. By that same logic: the reason that she didn't back down first was because she cared more about getting her way than she did about keeping _him_ happy. She suspected that _that_ was the crux of the problem. Why she felt their relationship shift. Ultimately it had showed that he cared more about her wishes than she cared about his. Despite the love between them, it was impossible that Godric didn't feel at least a little resentful because of that. She knew that she would be, were she in his shoes.

'Thank you.' She hid her real feelings from him. He was off the mark, but talking about it still helped her better understand what the problem was. 'We will work it out once there is time.' _They had to._

'Helena, I don't want to pressure you, but I am still interested in learning more about your history. Like for example why you treat the Varden with this constant sense of. . . resignation almost.'

 _'_ I…. no you are right. You deserve to know. Probably for a long time now. As soon as we have a moment's peace, I will tell you.'

You could argue that this _was_ a moment's peace, but she…. Well to be honest, she knew she was just stalling.

Eragon and she continued their silent conversation, talking about nothing of real consequence anymore, mostly just to pass the time and to remind themselves that despite all these strangers, there was one person that was indisputably on their side. Eragon still had Saphira of course, but Helena's support was still appreciated. She on the other hand didn't have that at the moment. Godric didn't really want to be here after the welcome they had received, and Murtagh… She suspected that he was just humoring them and was still fully expected to be thrown out eventually.

It would take another half hour before baldy told them that this Ajihad guy was ready to receive them.

"It is time." Baldy interrupted the two riders commiserating on the general horribleness of the Hadarac Desert, and signaled for them to get up. "Follow me."

They were led back towards the tunnel that they came from where they were asked – ordered – to ride on horseback. None of the horses were of the same quality as Snowfire, or even Ellie, but they would do. Baldy said they weren't allowed to climb on their dragons until he said so. Helena guessed this was to prevent them from just flying away. They were still very close to the entrance through which they had entered the mountain, and some of the tunnels were large enough to allow limited flight.

Speaking of the tunnels, if the fantasy stereotype of dwarves would hold true, then they were probably the ones that had built this place. Considering the poor relations between dwarves and dragons, this didn't ease Helena's nerves at all.

After about an hour of traveling they reached a decorated hallway. Marbled pillars laced with beautiful sparkling gemstones of red and purple stood along the wall. Between the pillars hung the same lanterns that had illuminated the rest of their journey through the mountain so far, suspended in the air by a thin silver wires. Geometric shapes of gold ran along the pillars, flowing smoothly around the gemstones. On the ceiling were carved raven heads, their beaks open in mid-screech. This, combined with the soft blue light from the lantern gave it a ravenclawy feel, though she had to admit that these raven drawings looked somewhat more vicious than the ones on the Ravenclaw house-crest. At the end of the hallway stood a giant black double metal door with a silver drawing of a seven pointed crown running along both sides. The door was perfectly square like the rest of the tunnel.

The bald man signaled the party to stop. "From here on out you will both ride on your dragons. Do not attempt to fly away; it will end badly for you if you do. People will be watching, so try and make a good impression. Also, don't make any sudden movements."

Helena snorted. "You want us to pretend that we are already trusted and on your side."

The bald man shot her a dry and slightly condescending look. "Something you should have no problem with if you have indeed come to help us as you claim."

 _He's got me there._

She dismounted her nameless horse and climbed onto Godric's back. In front of her, Eragon did the same with Saphira.

She decided that she _had_ to talk to Godric at this point.

'So how do you want to do this.' She had set the goal and course for them but she hoped that consulting him on the means would mollify him somewhat.

She sensed an incredible tiredness from him that had nothing to do with a lack of sleep. 'There is no need for this Helena. I hate this, and I don't mean just the Varden. We will talk later but for now we are good. What I want to do is roar at these people until they listen but I realize that won't work. I will follow your lead.'

'Just… behave alright, and try not to antagonize these people. We are on the same side; even if they don't realize it yet.'

She felt Godric agreeing with her words.

"Good," Baldy nodded at them. "Once the doors open, just follow the path in front of you. If you are incapable of that, pause and look to me for directions. Go slowly."

This man was giving her Snape flashbacks like nobody's business.

There was a sound of something snapping into place, and then with the heavy sound of large hinges grinding, the door slowly started to open.

Helena's breath caught in her throat and her mouth hang open. Nothing would ever awe her as much as Hogwarts had when she was a little girl looking up from a small boat at a giant magical castle that was to be her home, but this came at a close second. And the reason it didn't come first was not because Hogwarts was more impressive, but because she had simply been more impressionable at that age.

She discovered that a large part of the mountain was completely hollow. At her best guess the open space in front of her was about twelve miles high and. . . the edges weren't visible due to a lack of light. She had worried that Godric wouldn't be able to fly as much as he wished if they were going to spent any length of time underground, but this was more than enough space for him.

All the way to the top of the…. what should this be called? Cavern seemed such inadequate word. Underground valley. . . Yes. All the way at the top of the underground valley was a large opening through which she could see the blue sky. The dull beam of light that shone from it was proof that it was indeed starting to get late. Still, it was enough light to illuminate _yet another mountain that stood inside of the mountain, this one made of pure white stone!_

This new mountain however looked too smooth to be natural. Godric sent her a memory of his far better vision that proved that she was right. Windows with lanterns of different colors dotted the mountains surface and at the base she noticed two thirty foot golden gryphons that stood guard over an equally large gate that was built in a depression in the smaller mountain. _No not a mountain. It's a city,_ Helena realized numbly.

Orik noticed her expression – one that was mirrored on Eragon's face – and smirked. "Feast your eyes Riders for none of your kind have laid eyes on this place in well over a century. The peak under which we stand is called Farthen Dûr, and there in the center stands our greatest achievement: Tronjheim, the city mountain built from the purest marble." Behind her the metal doors started to close.

It was only then that she noticed what had to be many thousands of eyes watching her. She had never know that such a large group of people were capable of producing such complete silence. Judging by the diversity of the crowd she guessed that almost the whole population of Trojheim had come out to greet them. She saw men, woman, and children, both humans and dwarves, though the dwarves where mostly restricted to adult males.

Between the crowd and them stood a very large group of armed dwarves and men. Their equipment was surprisingly diverse, from swords, to spears, to halberds, though most had some ranged weapon on them. . . which all seemed to be knocked or loaded, depending on the type.

And all of them looked at her as if she was about to slaughter the lot of them.

She looked over at Eragon and noticed that he looked about as uncomfortable as she felt.

Smiling awkwardly, she raised her hand a little over her head and started waving slowly. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Eragon doing something similar.

She could almost feel the tension draining out of the crowd as well as the group of armed soldiers in between. _I guess awkwardness is a great way to seem nonthreatening._ That was a good thing since awkwardness wasn't an emotion she would have to fake.

Somewhere within the vast sea of people she could hear a person cheering, then two people started clapping, then others followed their example until a veritable explosion of sound slammed into her. She could _feel_ the sound waves vibrating through her body.

Helena could feel Godric practically preen under the attention. She on the other hand had to resist the urge to apparate away. Because of their connection, she could feel both her own anxiety and Godric's pride. The juxtaposition of the two emotions seemed to diminish the quantity of both, and she felt herself slowly calming down. She still made sure to regulate her breathing though, and noticed that the air tasted very fresh unlike inside the tunnel.

Godric and Saphira looked towards the bald man and he motioned for them to continue walking.

As the armed group parted around their procession, pushing the rest of crowd out of the way as they did so, she noticed that despite the incredible noise, a great number of people – mostly the dwarves – were not cheering. _Nothing that we didn't expect._ She also noticed that many of the older men gave Godric in particular some nasty looks. She was glad that he didn't snarl at them in response as she knew he wanted to. Even among the – as she had dubbed – civilians, they all seemed to be armed at least in some way, minus the few children hiding behind their mothers' skirts. Even most of the women they saw carried at least a dagger, something she knew was rare compared to the empire. She suspected that a lot of those that didn't have a weapon visible – and maybe those that did – probably had one concealed.

Behind her she saw Murtagh riding among some of their escort looking like he wanted to be anywhere else but here. A stab of guilt went through her at the sight since he was here in large part because of her.

When they had reached the base of Tronjheim, she took the opportunity to distract herself by studying the various artworks. Many sculptures of various beast occupied the space between the blood red pillars that dotted the path just before the large entrance to the mountain city; this close, she could make out that the door was made of timber. Some of those beasts she recognized; like a troll; some she didn't, like a long winged serpentine creature that looked vaguely like the Chinese version of a dragon.

The timber gate was pulled open by previously hidden chains. The men of their retinue barred the way for the crowd so they couldn't follow.

They continued walking into a forty feet tall passageway that extend further inwards. Above them they could see various tunnels connected by a long archway upon which stood even more gawking, glaring, and cheering spectators.

They eventually reached a large circular room about one thousand feet across. To the left and right of them were hallways that descended underground while the hallway in front of them resembled the one they had come from. "Helena!" She could hear Eragon call. When she looked at him he motioned upwards to the single most impressive piece of artwork she had ever seen. A rose in full bloom made entirely of ruby gemstones four hundred feet in diameter that was crafted so expertly that she could almost imagine it was real if it wasn't for the size and location. Looking upwards, she could also see even more people standing on archways, staring and yelling at them with varying levels of approval.

She was glad when baldy ordered them to dismount and led them on foot through the right hallway. From there they entered a smaller corridor. This section was a lot smaller than the other places she had been in so far and the dragons barely fit inside. They were led through four intersecting tunnels, and ignoring many more, she didn't think she would be able to find her way back without backtracking on their scent trail in husky form. Finally they stopped in front of a door that was smaller than any other door she had seen today, but still large enough for the dragons to pass through. "We have arrived. Only the riders, dragons, Orik, your dark-haired companion, and I will continue from here," baldy said as he pulled open the door and went inside, motioning for them to follow.

You could tell a lot about a person by how they decorate their living and working space. The room they entered looked noble and elegant without being ostentatious or sacrificing practicality. It was a very clean well-lighted place fit for both reading, studying, and meeting important guests. Well-crafted and decorated bookshelves filled more with scrolls than books completely covered one side of the wall. At the far end stood a walnut desk that looked very old and used; somehow that seemed to add to its appeal.

Behind the desk stood a powerfully build man with a bald head but a neatly trimmed black beard dressed in a fine red vest embroidered with golden threads that emphasized his broad shoulders over a purple shirt. A little behind and to the left of him stood a man that looked identical to baldy, looking at them impassively. Murtagh's step faltered slightly at the sight of him. She suspected she knew what he was thinking: he could barely keep one of them out of his mind, two would likely be too much for him.

The man she guessed was Ajihad looked at them with a grave expression. "I hope I did not make a mistake in setting up this meeting. My name is Ajihad. Welcome to Tronjheim. Please take a seat." He motioned towards three chairs that had obviously been prepared beforehand. Orik and baldy remained standing, the latter moving beside the identical looking man. When he noticed Eragon's questioning look towards the two identical people Ajihad nodded towards the duo and said: "They are twins, and have no names."

After they seated themselves, Ajihad gave Helena a hard look. "You have placed me in difficult position by refusing to prove your loyalty. More so because of what you are. If even half of the rumors about riders are true, then in the event that you wanted me dead you could attack and kill me before enough of my men could intervene. To say nothing of your dragon."

"Then why arrange this meeting?" she asked tensely.

"Because if you are a rider working for Galbatorix then it is better to deal with you under controlled conditions. Even if you kill me, you would not escape this mountain alive."

"You see yourself as expendable?"

"Just so. My death would be a serious blow to the Varden but not fatal one. I believe the chance to deal with you would be worth that price."

Despite the suspiciousness and wariness of this Ajihad, she found herself respecting the man for putting himself in danger for the sake of his people like that. "You say 'deal' with me. Does that mean I won't leave here alive unless I convince you of my loyalty?" she was surprised by how calmly they were discussing this. To her right, Eragon stiffened.

"Yes," he said simply. "Without some assurances, the risk of you working for Galbatorix is too great at this point. If we let you go now, we would likely only be able to defeat you through great cost of life. It is a risk we cannot afford to take. I must insist you let someone examine you."

"Back in Teirm we discovered that someone among the Varden was giving away information on which merchants were secretly supporting you. Not to mention the runners Brom said you would have sent never arrived. It's clear you have one or more spies amongst yourself. I have secrets I don't want falling in the wrong hands. How do I know baldy over there isn't working for Galbatorix?"

The baldy in question looked at her in outrage. "How dare yo––"

Ajihad cut him off with a swiftly raised hand. "If you don't trust him then someone else. There are a good number of magicians among the Varden."

Baldy looked at him incredulously. "My lord, I must protest. No other is––"

"Quiet you," he snapped. "You are here to observe in case things turn violent, no other reason." He looked back to her. "Well?"

She gave a shrug. "Same problem really. How do I know they are not working for Galbatorix." She leaned forward and put her elbow on the desk with a finger pointed towards him, and narrowed her eyes at Ajihad. "In fact, how do I know _you_ are not working for Galbatorix."

Ajihad's mouth fell open at her audacity. Eragon looked at her as if she had gone mad, and two seats to her right Murtagh displayed a slightly demented smile saying, "Oh well, I suppose my life was at least interesting while it lasted."

To Ajihad's right the two bald men looked tense and worried, and to his left Orik had a hand clasped over his mouth as if he had trouble holding in his laughter. Ajihad shot the dwarf a glare and then turned to her. "I. . ." he seemed to have trouble finding the right words. "I am the leader of the Varden," he said slowly as if to an imbecile.

"Precisely," she said smugly, as if he had just proven her point. "Is there anyone else who is better informed about all the goings on here? Or who would be in a better position for it?"

Ajihad shook his head rapidly. "Alright enough. Any other leader would have your head for such insolence, but–"

"You must have known some bloody terrible leaders than."

Eragon hissed at her. "Would you please stop making it worse."

"Fine," she huffed and sat herself back strait in her chair with her arms crossed.

Ajihad gave her a puzzled look as if he had no clue what manner of strange creature he had invited into his study. "As I was saying." He paused as if waiting to see if anyone would interrupt him again. When nobody did he schooled his face back into the grave mask he wore when they had entered the room. "You must understand my position." He gave her the same story about her egg coming from Galbatorix's collection and working for him that she had heard from Orik. "It is simply the most likely scenario. We cannot led you go free without proof of your innocence."

"I can afford to trust you no more than you can trust me."

"But you are outnumbered here. You do not have a choice in the matter. Even if it would take every single magician that––"

He was interrupted again but by Eragon this time, who stood up from his chair with his palms on the table. "Is this really all there is?! Is this really it?!" he screamed at Ajihad. The twins and Orik both tensed. Ajihad himself seemed taken aback by the sudden outburst.

"I thought you would be better than this. That the group that Brom thought was worthy of his loyalty would be better, but if this is what you are than you are no better than Galbatorix. Submit or die, is that the only choice you give us?"

"Now see here," Ajihad snarled back at Eragon. "I am responsible for a countless number of lives. My entire adult life has been spent fighting the empire and its mad king. One mistake. One mistake is all it takes for all of that to come to naught and invite doom upon us all. She is too dangerous for me to trust with the information we have."

"I don't care," he returned with a similar expression. "She has committed no crimes to deserve this, and she has saved my life four times already. I trust her more than any of you. If she is your enemy than I am as well, and you can forget about ever having any riders to help you."

'I agree,' Saphira voice echoed in their mind. 'Eragon and I own her a debt. You would need to get through us to get to her.'

Ajihad face was devoid of emotion but that in itself could be an indicator that he was troubled.

Helena spoke up again. "What if. . ." she looked speculatively at the still standing Eragon. _Do I trust him that much. . .? Yes. . . yes I do._ "What if Eragon looked through my mind?" Eragon looked at her in astonishment while Ajihad looked speculative.

One of the twins make a coughing sound and gave a nasty smile. "You should know my lord, that the girl has. . . influence over the boy, if you know what I mean. Not to mention that I suspect that she is more skilled in the mental arts than he is. I question how trustworthy his examination would be."

"I see," Ajihad said coolly. "It was a good idea, but not good enough."

"Oh come on!" Helena complained, giving Ajihad and the twins a disgusted look. "You know Eragon isn't working for Galbatorix, so why can't he do it? As for his skill in the mental arts, I have mentally battled against Eragon and against one of your two stooges over there, and I have to say that they are almost as skilled." _At least if Saphira gets involved._ "You think he will just ignore the fact if I turn out to be an enemy because I have a nice arse?!" Suddenly she remembered an idea she had toyed with on the way here, about a possible leverage she could use. She slammed her hands on the desk and leaned forward again, looking Ajihad straight in the eyes with a smirk. "Here is a compromise: have Eragon examine me, and if you still don't trust me after that, just let me go. You'll still have one rider on your side. Meanwhile, I am sure I can get some other people to help me fight Galbatorix on my own. I don't need you. I will beat Galbatorix with or without your help."

Ajihad leaned forward and met her gaze searchingly, seemingly looking for something in her expression. They stared at each other for what felt like a full minute before he leaned back with a small smile on his face. "That is an excellent idea."

Helena's expression fell. _What?_

Ajihad's smile widened. "One should never place all their eggs in one basket, or so my grandmother used to say. I am sure you will find many willing to throw their support behind someone as determined as you. I wish you the best of luck."

A feeling of dread willed up from deep inside her. 'Shit! Godric, he is calling my bluff!'

'Huh,' he sounded surprised. 'You were bluffing? I was looking forward to doing what you suggested. There is no reason why we can't create our own faction and army."

'Yes but I really, really, _really_ , don't want to be in charge like that!'

She felt a sense of disappointment flowing from Godric. 'You shouldn't make threats you aren't willing to follow up on, Helena,' he admonished.

She frantically tried to think of some way out of this. Unless she agreed to have one of the Varden's magicians read her, she would need to agree to Ajihad's proposal to make it out of this mountain in one piece, but then what? Go to Surda? They would likely trust her no more than the Varden. The elves? She had no idea if. . . if. . . That's it!

With a jolt she sat up strait in her chair when the idea hit her. "What of Arya?"

"What about her?" Ajihad asked, still with that infuriating smile on his face.

"She could read my mind." She had already been in her head that one time, so it wasn't like she didn't already know of her strange origins and abilities, or at least some of it.

Ajihad's smile vanished. "We don't know how long it will take for her to recover."

"I'll wait." She smiled, mostly since Ajihad had stopped smiling. It made her feel like she had won some victory over the smug bastard.

"We don't know what enchantments Galbatorix might have placed on her," one of the twins said. "They might have subverted her."

Ajihad looked like he really wanted to use that excuse and run with it, but eventually decided on honesty. "No. Elves are strong, and that one more than most. I know her. It is possible that they defeated her, but she'd die before she allowed herself to be used against us." Considering how Arya had immediately been prepared to kill herself when Helena had accidentally gotten into her head, she was inclined to agree with that assessment.

"It's perfect!" she exclaimed, leaning back in her chair. "If there is anyone here that we can all trust isn't working for Galbatorix and is capable of reading my thoughts it is her. If getting captured and tortured by a Shade on the remote possibility that she would be rescued by two riders was all some elaborate scheme to gain my trust, then at this point, she deserves to succeed."

Ajihad looked like he had swallowed a lemon. Orik and the twins looked unhappy with this solution as well. "You would need to remain in a cell until Arya is well enough."

"Agreed."

Ajihad rubbed his temples and then turned to Murtagh. "What of you? Will you also wait for Arya to recover."

"No. Even if this elf is unquestionably opposed to Galbatorix, that doesn't mean I will trust her with my secrets."

Ajihad gave Murtagh an intense look, studying him for a long time, his features slowly darkening. "Stand up and take off your shirt."

With a sense of resignation Murtagh showed him the scar on his back.

"Murtagh," breathed Ajihad. Orik let out a curse. "First a rider of dubious origin; one whose name is reminiscent of the Black Hand. Now the child of Morzan himself. You say you refuse to be probed?"

To Helena surprise, Murtagh hesitated, looking more uncertain than she had ever seen him. He kept looking shooting glances at Eragon and her. "Perhaps. . ." he began hesitantly. "I could accept that Helena looks into my mind, but no other."

Helena felt herself smiling warmly at that show of trust.

Ajihad didn't miss a beat. "Then you will have to be imprisoned until she herself is cleared, and won't be trusted or given free rein after that either."

Murtagh shrugged. "I doubt I will ever be fully trusted here."

"And they won't be alone," Eragon spoke up, a stubborn look in his eyes. "I stand with my friends. If you can't trust them, you can't trust me either. I want to be in jail with them."

Ajihad closed his eyes, saying nothing for a long time. When he opened his eyes they looked weary, but resolute. "This didn't go at all as I had hoped it would. It pains me that our start has to be mired in suspicion and threats. I wish it could have been different, but my responsibilities do not allow me to take chances. I personally suspect you are all telling the truth, and if that is so, I beg that you don't allow this meeting to taint your opinion of the Varden as a whole."

"We came to help," Eragon stressed. "That still hasn't changed. Despite your best attempts to turn us against you."

Ajihad sighed. "I can hardly blame you for standing by your friends, Eragon. There are things I hoped to tell you in private, since you have already proven you are free of fault, but it will have to wait. It is getting late, and feelings are running high. Best that we all sleep on all that has occurred before we say anything else." He motioned for the twins to come closer so he could whisper something to them. "They will escort you to your cells. The dragons can stay in the Dragonhold, which will be within shouting distance of where you will be staying."

xxxxxxxxxxxx

 _My first try at being proactive in politics and I end up in a cell. Perhaps the universe is trying to tell me something?_

It wasn't all that bad though.

Compared to the luxuries they had – or more accurately hadn't– enjoyed on their travels, their _'cell'_ was more like a high quality guesthouse than anything else. It consisted of three interconnected rooms complete with washbasin, writing desk, and beds that looked so soft she nearly fell asleep just by laying eyes upon them. They weren't allowed to leave, of course, but that didn't bother her. For now she welcomed the small reprieve.

She went over to a small window overlooking the inner most part of Tronjheim. By looking upwards, she had a clear view of the ruby rose hanging on the ceiling, above which she knew Godric and Saphira were resting. Ajihad had given them one of the highest rooms in Tronjheim so as not to separate them too far from their dragons.

"They may not trust either of you, but they obviously want to keep you as happy as possible," Murtagh said as he threw off his boots and socks and allowed his naked feet to brush against the rug that covered most of the floor. "Oh! that feels nice." He lifted his head, an expression of pure bliss on his face, and allowed himself to fall on the carpet.

"I still wish it could have gone better," Eragon murmured sourly as he dropped himself on the bed.

"How?" Murtagh challenged. "We got what we wanted, didn't we? Helena didn't need to get her mind examined by one of the Varden's pet magicians."

"The leader of the Varden hates us," Eragon retorted dryly.

"Nah, he is just upset he can't push you around like he probably wanted."

"I don't get why he looked so unhappy when I suggested Arya as an examiner; it solved the problem didn't it?" Helena said as she pulled out a chair from the writing desk to sit herself down.

"Politics," Murtagh said. "He couldn't deny you since you were right; the elf is unlikely to work for Galbatorix. But at the same time, she doesn't exactly answer to him does she? She may not share all she learns with him like the twins probably would. Yet if this Arya tells him: 'she is trustworthy', and simply leaves it at that, Ajihad will just have to swallow it."

"I didn't consider that," Helena muttered thoughtfully.

"There is more," Murtagh continued. "If Galbatorix does end up being defeated, then you two, as the first of the new generation of riders, will have a huge amount of influence in who gets to rule next. And just now, you, a human, declared that you trust an elf more than you would trust any member of your own race. What does that imply? Besides, you just set a precedent of being able to strong-arm the leader of the Varden into doing what you want. Of course he isn't going to like that!"

Eragon rubbed his forehead in irritation. "All these politics are making me dizzy. Why couldn't they just be happy that we are here?"

"I agree. I thought it would be easier. They are desperate for our help aren't they?" she asked. She assumed they would reason like Dormnad had done: 'if you are against us, we are doomed anyway, so we might as well go along with it.'

Murtagh scoffed. "Of course they are desperate. The Varden have always been desperate, working on nothing but a fool's hope. But if they had allowed their desperation to rule them, they would have gone extinct a long time ago. Did you think that just because they need you that they would bend over backwards for you?"

"Sort of," she admitted sheepishly. "It was also why I thought threatening to go my own way would work. I thought they wouldn't want competition or risk losing me if I do turn out to be against Galbatorix."

"Was that what you were thinking?" Eragon asked with a grin. "I had to admit, I was wondering if you were really planning on doing what you said, or whether you had finally gone completely mad, or both." She stuck her tongue out at him.

Eragon looked at Murtagh considering. "Are you really okay with having Helena look into your thoughts. I thought that was a big no for you."

"Oh," Murtagh made a sound of surprise. "I had actually planned that she could just pretend to look into my thoughts and simply say that I am trustworthy afterwards. I would have mentioned you as well, but then they could have insisted that you do it then and there, not giving us a chance to discuss it first."

That caused a small stab of hurt to go through Helena. She had thought it was a sign of trust on Murtagh's part, but apparently not. "I don't like lying to people," she said sourly.

"They are probably expecting it," he said dismissively. "It's part of why they still won't let me go afterwards." He shot Helena a look that seemed to say 'I told you so'. "They will never trust me, no matter what I do."

"Not without reason apparently, if you are going to rely on trickery and deceit like that," she shot back at him."

Murtagh lifted himself to a sitting position and gave her a hard look. "So you won't do it?" he challenged.

She made an indistinct sound of frustration. "Fine, I'll help you, but please don't force me to lie like that again."

"I will keep it in mind," he said dispassionately. "It may not be particular late yet, but considering the week we've had, I am going to sleep." He got up and walked to the rightmost room, shutting the door behind him.

Eragon watched that door thoughtfully. "I may no longer dislike him for being Morzan's son, but if he keeps this up, I may end up disliking him for more legitimate reasons." He turned to her. "I hope you realize I like you for a lot more than just your _'nice arse'_."

Eragon had never been particularly subtle with his interest in her, but this was the first time he stated it outright. She felt frozen and didn't really know what to say.

Eragon on the other hand seemed to have his nerves perfectly under control and looked at her calmly. "I am sure that by now you must know how I feel. So please just tell me: do I have a chance with you?"

She felt her blood rising to her cheeks and nodded stiffly, not meeting his eyes.

He smiled. "Then that is enough for now." He stood up. "I'll take the other room." She felt a mixture of relief and disappointment that he didn't push further. He left her alone in the room that was apparently going to be hers.

When he left the room she let out a long breath. Back when Eragon was nothing more than a stuttering mess around her, this was so much easier to deal with. She was reminded of the fact that while Eragon didn't have any experience with romantic relationships, neither did she, not counting some schoolyard crushes that never went anywhere.

After Dras-Leona she told herself she still didn't know if she wanted to respond to his advances, but now it seemed the attraction had become mutual.

Her gaze drifted to the window again. _I can't put this off, nor do I want to._ She dragged her chair to the window and set herself down, putting her elbow on the arm chair and supporting her head with her knuckles. She gazed out of the window; while the ruby rose blocked most of her view, right at the edge of the rose and through some of the peddles, It was possible to see the Dragonhold from where she sat.

Godric jumped into her view and returned her gaze. 'Helena.'

She had no clue what to say to him; all she knew was that she wanted the other half of her soul back. 'I am sorry,' she decided on for lack of a better idea.

'Don't be.' She sensed an almost overwhelming amount of doubt, sadness and pain coming from him. 'I chose you, not the other way around. In light of that, our troubles seem only natural, don't they?'

Those words cut at her and made her feel even more guilty. 'Please don't say that. I love you. I would have chosen you if I could.'

'Sometimes I wonder. You and I are very different. Would you have cared at all about me if it wasn't for our bond? Or would you have been repulsed by my more pragmatic and brutal attitude? Am I not the sort of monster that you, the hero, would normally set out to slay?'

Her eyes widened, and her mouth fell open in horror at the thought. She pulled her legs to her chest and hugged herself. _'_ No. Never! You are not a monster Godric.'

'I have decided that I will no longer question it when you act the part of the idealistic hero. I won't get in your way. I made the choice to hatch for you. It is as you once said: I knew what you were. I should not be upset if you act like the person I saw you to be. I cannot change you, nor would I want to.'

She didn't know what to say to him and the silence dragged on. Her heart twisted in knots, and she could feel tears building up in her eyes and she made no effort to stop them. She knew that if she used her actual voice now the words would come out broken like Eragon's were back when Brom died. In lieu of any better idea, she joined her mind with Godric's as deep as she could, allowing him to feel her sorrow just like she could feel his. Somehow that helped. Sorrow normally wasn't a pleasant emotion, but when two crying souls embraced it turned into something else.

Together they revisited memories of simpler times. Of the two of them chasing each other in the forests just outside of Teirm when the troubles that were coming, while still known, were distant things. When it was just the two of them reveling in knowing that someone would always be there for them. At that moment, they decided that no matter their differences, someone still always would be.

* * *

 **AN:**  
 **I hope that part with Helena punching one of the twins wasn't too unrealistic. When you have the MC meet some dislikable characters it is sometimes hard to resist adding in some wish fulfilment.**

 **Yes, I made the star Sapphire even larger than it was originally. There is a reason why I did this.**

 **I have added the romance genre to the story. Originally I wasn't going to pay much attention to the romance aspect but. . . well it's creeped up on me. So now I – a 24 year old male who has never had a girlfriend in his life and has absolutely no first hand experience when it comes to romance – is going to have to write a romance from the perspective of a 18 year old woman. Pray for me people; pray for me.**  
 **As for the rating. Unlike most, I don't pick the rating that is safest, instead picking as low as I think I can get away with. When I get 2 reviews from different people telling me I need to change it to M rating, I will do so. I can however promise that there will be no explicit content, unless I link it to another site that allows such things as a special bonus chapter xxxx or something. Edit 26/03/2018: that last promise has already proven false, and their might indeed be explicit content in the future  
**


	17. Allies? (Part 2)

**As always, special thanks to CerealReader for taking the time to Beta.**

* * *

 _. . . and we never saw Tira again. Woe to_ _Dûrgrimst Quan, for them to lose one of their daughters like that. . . small as that clan already is. Right or wrong, what true value is our sovereignty, when those self-proclaimed kings of the sky have so little respect for those from and of the ground? Right or wrong, wisdom or arrogance; in the end, it, by what right do they do they claim jurisdiction over us?_

Helena turned the page.

 _If King Angrenost and King Evandar have so little pride and self-respect that they allow others to spit on their rights, that is their business. In a way, I understand it even. I would not agree, but I understand. Their people are chosen and bonded, but we are not part of their agreement. Dwarves are not meant to leave the ground. . ._

Helena blew some of her hair out of her eyes and closed the small paperback book. It was basically one large criticism of the Riders, based on how they do not respect the traditions and laws of others. There were also some jabs taken at the Human and Elven Kings who allowed the Riders to do as they pleased in their territories. The author of the book claimed that if a third party can overrule the king, then the king is no true king. Either that, or that third party has claimed the authority of the gods, for only they could stand above kings. The book even hinted that some of the humans _did_ see the Riders as living gods.

Helena highly suspected that this particular book's presence in her room was no coincidence.

At first Helena had started out sympathetic of the author's views and criticisms when he complained that the Riders didn't respect their sovereignty, but when he had started giving concrete examples, she had slowly started to change her mind. Yes, they didn't really have any legal right to interfere, but in the examples he gave, she too would have done what they did. A political refugee seeking asylum, forced or forbidden marriages, and overruling criminal sentencing – no matter how much the author was sure they were right, Riders could read minds; if they said someone was innocent, they likely were. Those cases were rare though, mostly they got involved when there was an altercation between two different races. Like two merchants from different cultures who both recognized two different customs, laws, and authorities, and because of that, both considered themselves robbed. She got the feeling the Riders were considered a sort of word police force in the past, and they mostly did a good job of it.

No matter how much rulers complained about a lack of right or jurisdiction from a third party, if she saw something that she knew to be wrong, it was likely that she wouldn't be able to stand by either. She wasn't going to blame the Riders of old for doing what she couldn't have resisted doing either. She knew that law and justice aren't always synonymous with each other; the ministry regime during the one year reign of Voldemort had proven that much – and even before that to be honest. Still, she could understand why the Riders made kings and other rulers nervous whenever they showed up.

Helena placed the small book back on the small nightstand beside her bed. She looked up and glared at the small lantern that had woken her up _way_ earlier than she had wanted to. When she had gone to bed yesterday, the lamp had only shone with a very dull dim light, but now the bloody thing shined bright like a bonfire, making it almost impossible for her to sleep in like she had wanted to. They would likely have to wait a while for Arya to recover anyway, so their wouldn't have been any harm in oversleeping. She suspected that the things were enchanted to dim and brighten over the day so as to mimic the rise and setting of the sun.

There was a knocking on the door to Eragon's room. "Are you decent?"

"Wait! Just let me change out of my nightdress first." When she woke up she had made an effort to not make any noise so she wouldn't wake up her companions, but it seems she no longer had to bother. She was glad for it; now she had someone to talk to. For once she had woken up before Godric.

She would still make an effort to keep her voice down for Murtagh's sake.

After she told him it was safe, Eragon entered and he looked about as tired she felt. She gave him a sardonic smile. "The lamp?"

He made an expression as if he smelled something foul. "If I had known, I would have thrown a blanket over it. Granted, I might have burned down the room, but it would have been worth the risk."

Suddenly, she remembered the memories of the last words spoken between them yesterday. She tried to muster up her courage. she was a _Gryffindor_ and an adult; they could talk about this. "Eragon. You should know that I have no more experience when it comes to romance than you." She felt exposed and embarrassed as she said it, but tried not to let it show.

He gulped. Whatever odd spark of courage had prompted him to speak out yesterday seemed to have mostly disappeared. "Yes, I guessed as much based on your reaction. I was surprised by it. I can't imagine nobody ever showing an interest."

Helena felt herself smiling at the flattery. "Oh, they did at one point. There once was this ball that I had to attend. The boys were _supposed_ to ask the girls to be there dancing partners, though there were a few exceptions where the girls asked the boys out – but I digress. I was approached many times, but I knew almost none of them. It was obvious they weren't interested in me as person, but just my fame, wealth, or titles."

Eragon sat himself at the end of the bed, trying to make himself comfortable. Helena changed from lying on her belly to sitting up straight as well so they sat next to each other. He looked at her nervously. "There was no one that held your interest?" She thought it cute how he tried to sound nonchalant about the question.

She smiled. "Well yea, at first I was kind of holding out hope that Cedric, or perhaps one of the other champions – long story, tell you later – would ask me. Me and almost half the female population that had hit puberty was hoping for Cedric I expect. He was your typical handsome talented nice guy – a bit like you perhaps. The other half hoping for Krum, the other champion and a famous athlete. Turns out he, Cedric, already had a girlfriend, while this Krum guy ended up asking out one of my best friends, Hermione."

"So who did you end up going with in the end?"

"My other best friend; a boy named Ron. We spent the majority of the evening shadowing Hermione and Krum like a pair of really bad spies to make sure nothing. . . untoward would happen. Those famous types often have trouble understanding that not everybody thinks bedding you is an honor." She ignored the hypocrisy of the fact that she also belonged to those famous types and got annoyed when others made assumptions about her based on that. "Turns out we had nothing to worry about; Krum acted the part of the perfect gentleman. Or at least as much as possible without being able to speak our language fluently. All and all, we had a pretty fun night." Though afterwards Hermione had given them a big tongue lashing. Apparently, Krum had considered the fact that Hermione had two overprotective friends following them around while trying and failing to remain inconspicuous very funny and endearing, all to Hermione's embarrassment.

On Eragon's face she could read the question he wanted to ask, but was too polite to do so.

She smirked at him. "No. There was never anything between Ron and I, despite what the rumors would have had you believe. When the night was over, we both looked at each other suspiciously, and in perfect unison said: 'You aren't expecting me to kiss you, are ye?' we both started laughed at that. Besides, I suspected that even back then that Ron had the hots for Hermione; yet another reason why he wanted to keep an eye on her that night." Her smile grew more subdued. "After that year, I had bigger things on my mind than romance." She took a weary breath. "And I suppose I should get to explain that, shouldn't I?"

Frustration appeared on Eragon's face. "Look, I am very curious, but you are clearly uncomfortable with–" she halted him with a raised hand.

"No. This Arya will soon know, and it is simply wrong for a total stranger to be the first I tell." She shot a glance at nothing in particular. "I don't even know why it bothers me to talk about it to be honest. Maybe habit? Or maybe the length of it?" She shook her head. "Doesn't matter. Now where to begin. . . " she trailed off, softly biting her bottom lip.

"Perhaps at the beginning?" Eragon suggested wryly.

"Whose beginning?" she shot back at him. "Some of it happened before my time." A moment of quite ensued. "Alright. I suppose some of it you don't need to know." She was amused at the annoyance on Eragon's face. "I'll tell it later if you want. But I need you to get the general idea first. This will be long enough as is." She cleared her throat. "There was a war, though not like you would understand it. There were no clashes of great armies. We wizards and witches do not fight like that; nor could we, due to our small numbers. Do you know what a skirmish is?" Eragon nodded. "Well it was mostly a war comprised entirely of that, though most called it terrorism. A wizard named Voldemort–"

Eragon laughed. "He might as well have called himself Lord Evil with that name."

Helena smiled weakly. "I imagine many laughed as well when they first heard it. Then they died. He wanted his name to inspire fear, and by continuously killing those that didn't, he succeeded." Eragon grew appropriately somber again. "He eventually became known as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named or You-Know-Who; Yes, Eragon, we are terrible at naming things. I believe it was a terrible but simple war, good versus evil. Some say it was an idealistic war for, or against, blood-purity – which you can compare to aristocracy I suppose – but considering how little Voldemort cared about sparing those with pure blood, I don't think that's right. Maybe he did agree with that old pureblood belief, but I think it was just an excuse; he simply wanted power. I repeat, it was simple but terrible war between good and evil, and evil was winning."

"It was estimated that the ministry – that's our government – would capitulate within a year when a woman named Sybil Trelawney uttered a prophecy that said a girl born to parents who had thrice defied him was approaching. She would have a power that the Dark Lord knows not, and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives. A man named Severus Snape – one of Voldemort's lackeys at the time – overheard the part about a girl being prophesied to defeat him, but he was discovered and removed before he could hear everything."

"There were other young witches that were born at the end of July, but none to parents that had thrice defied him, unless you stretch the definition of defy to the point of absurdity. Since I was the only one who fit the bill, he planned to kill me." Helena felt warm at the flash of protective rage that flashed across Eragon's face. "Now this Snape character discovered he was planning to kill me. He – Snape – had a bit of history with my mother and didn't want her to die defending me – as he knew she would. Killing strangers, or even letting an innocent baby die, wasn't something he had a problem with, and he would have cheerfully helped with murdering my father if he had the chance, but Voldemort killing his estranged childhood friend that he was still obsessed with was a step too far." Her voice grew bitter at the end. Even after everything, she had never been able to forgive Snape for his part in her parent's deaths.

Yes, he had tried to repent. Yes, she recognized how instrumental he and his love of her mother was in Voldemort's defeat, but she still didn't like him. He was still nasty to her for no reason whatsoever. He saved her life, but he also made it miserable. Though she supposed it could have been worse. If Helena had looked more like Lily's daughter instead of James's, she might have had to place a restraining order on the git. He also caused Sirius to nearly be kissed by dementors, even after he had learned he was probably innocent, and he outed Lupin as a werewolf. He was also a bully to a lot his students, and to her and Neville especially. Neville's worst fear during his third year had been one of his teachers for Pete's sake! She also still remembered that time that she had spent comforting a crying Hermione after she had been cursed by Malfoy with beaver teeth that grew longer than her chin, and Snape said he didn't see a difference. All those little things added up. Yes, he was bullied as a child himself, but that is no excuse. Not to mention all the stuff he must have done while he was a Death Either – a group of terrorists that he joined out of his own free will. Helena also suspected that Snape's original plan had been for Voldemort to kill both herself and her dad while leaving her mother alive, and so Snape could offer Lilly a shoulder to cry on afterwards, and so hopefully get into Lilly's pants. The very thought of it disgusted her.

Helena heard Murtagh's door opening. "I heard talking, so I assumed you were both awake."

She looked at Murtagh speculatively. She wasn't sure if she wanted to include Murtagh in her audience, but he was here now. Two days ago she wouldn't have had these doubts, but now. . . she was probably being paranoid. Yes, he didn't consider strangers to be important, but she wasn't a stranger to him. He and she disagreed on many things, but he did consider her a friend. . . she hoped. Something that Remus once said about her father came to her: 'He would have regarded it as the height of dishonor to mistrust his friends.' Granted, that had killed him in the end, but it was still a beautiful motto.

"I was telling the story about all those trials and turmoils that I went through. You know, that stuff you suspected I made up. So, I am not sure it would interest you." Eragon obviously didn't know what they were talking about, but he understood enough of it to give Murtagh a nasty look.

Murtagh gave a sheepish smile in response, rubbing the back of his head. "I was tense and agitated at the time. I didn't mean that."

"Alright, sit down," she said, and she repeated what was said thus far.

"You say the war was terrible," Murtagh said once he was caught up. "Can you go into a bit more detail?"

She gave him an as dry a look as she could. "Almost all the children where I come from go to the same school. In my parent's day, there were well over a hundredth children in their year group. When I went there, we had less than forty. What does that tell you?"

Murtagh winced. "Okay, yea, that's pretty bad."

"Continuing with the story: So, this Snape character warns Albus Dumbledore – the only wizard that could beat Voldemort in a fair fight – and warned him of the danger. My parents went into hiding. They used a special enchantment that allowed them to hide the secret of their location away into the soul of another; a secret keeper. Don't question it Eragon; my version of magic and logic don't get along. Anyway, everyone expected that they would use Sirius Black as the secret keeper; he was known as my father's best friend and my godfather. They decided that this was too obvious and chose another friend instead, Peter Pettigrew, the most unassuming of their friends, and not someone anyone would expect. Unfortunately, he turned out to a spy. It is assumed that earlier on in the war he got captured, and was given the choice between serving Voldemort or die horribly. Pettigrew wasn't malicious, per se, but he was a coward."

"On Halloween – a significant holiday for my people – he came to our house." She paused trying to collect herself, she had heard the story often, but this was the first time she explained it to someone else. Her eyes seemed to lose focus as she once again imagined what it must have been like. "When he showed up my dad told my mother to run saying." She took a shuddering breath. "Lily, take Helly and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off." Sirius later told her that Helly was not an abbreviation of Helena, but a play on the word 'helion', which he often called her. His little hellion.

Eragon cringed in sympathy, his hands balling into fists, while Murtagh shuffled uncomfortably in the chair he had pulled out, looking anywhere but at her. She got the impression that Murtagh wasn't very good with expressing or witnessing emotions. "Now, for whatever reason, my father didn't have his wand on him – a focus that helps us do magic," she added for Murtagh's benefit. "He died quickly because of that. After that, Voldemort followed my mum to my nursery room. At Snape's request, he offered my mother the chance to step aside and leave with her life if she allowed me to die; she didn't. She begged to trade her life for my mine. When she continued to refuse to stop shielding me with her body, he killed her."

Eragon looked uncomfortable. "I know it's wrong of me, but I find myself somewhat jealous. At least you knew that your mother loved you."

"For the longest time I didn't. I only learned about it on my eleventh birthday," she retorted. "Despite my mother not accepting the offer of leaving with her life, it was still important. I am sure that before then, many mothers had died trying to protect their children, but only mine was ever given a choice. And so, by her choice, my mother invoked a powerful magic called _Sacrificial Protection_ ; the strongest countercharm in existence that can only be invoked by willingly giving up one's life out of love. When Voldemort turned his wand on me next and casted the _Killing Curse_ – for which there was no known counter – his spell rebounded on him, and his body was destroyed. By surviving that which I shouldn't, I was ever thereafter known as The-Girl-Who-Lived."

"Love is a powerful force," Murtagh said. Helena and Eragon both looked at him in surprise. That wasn't something they would have expected him to say. "It can drive someone to commit the noblest of deeds, as well as the worst of atrocities." _Ah, should have known better. That sounds more like him._

Being a firm believer in the power of love, she gave him an annoyed glare. "What do you mean with worst of atrocities?"

"By all accounts my mother loved my father. Whether the reverse is true, I cannot say, but Morzan used that love for him to force her to do all sorts of dirty work. The Varden have mentioned her once already, when they said you have a name reminiscent of the Black Hand. Her name was Selena."

Eragon's breath caught in his throat. "My mother had the same name."

"Really," Murtagh raised a skeptical eyebrow, but then he eyed Eragon speculatively. "It is not an uncommon name, but you do resemble a portrait I once saw of her."

A tense silence ensued that stretched on for a minute, during which Murtagh and Eragon just looked at each other, not saying anything. A myriad of emotions appeared and disappeared on both their faces in such a rapid fashion that she had trouble keeping up.

"Oookaaaaayyy," she awkwardly tried to break the tension and continued her story a bit faster than before. "So after Voldemort got himself blown up, a couple of people visited our home. At first Rubeus Hagrid was sent to discover what had happened – a half-giant of a man who would become a dear friend of mine later on – he found me first. Next, my godfather Sirius Black showed up and offered to take me with him, but Hagrid refused on Dumbledore's orders. Dumbledore wasn't aware of the switch in secret keepers so he probably told Hagrid not to trust him. We suspect that Pettigrew also visited the house to collect Voldemort's wand." While this still wasn't easy to talk about, she found continuing her story was preferable to keep looking from Eragon to Murtagh to see how they were handling the revelation of them maybe being brothers.

She continued with her tale. Telling about how Sirius tried to take revenge on Pettigrew but was framed. About the reasons why she had to stay with the Dursleys. She didn't go into much detail about her life with them; she had done that already. Then the – in hindsight – hilarious efforts from the Dursleys not to let her receive her Hogwarts Letter. Eragon had already heard that one, but she had no problem with sharing again.

Soon her story arrived at the sorting.

"You already mentioned that you were sorted into Gryffindor; the house of the brave and noble," Eragon said. "It suits you."

"The same house that both my parents were sorted into, yes," she said fondly, her chin resting on her hand. "though, originally, I didn't want to go to Gryffindor."

"Why not?" Eragon asked, puzzled.

"Have you noticed that I can be a bit. . . contrary at times?" Murtagh snorted and Eragon gave a dry chuckle. "I wanted to be my own person. I didn't want everyone to look at me and see my parents. I also suspect that many people expected me to be in Gryffindor which just made me want to do something else. . . though I am not sure if I realized that at the time. Anyway, I was actually hoping to talk the Sorting Hat into placing me in Hufflepuff, since friendship, loyalty, hard work, and above all else, acceptance, were things I wanted for myself. But the instant the Hat touched my brow – before I could even address it – it immediately shouted out 'Gryffindor'! It took me a while before I dared to admit that story to my housemates. I don't regret anything, though. The Hat made the right decision, I think."

She continued with her story from first to fourth year, which took about an hour, during which someone brought them their breakfast. She got the impression that both Eragon and Murtagh were only half focused on her story, while the other half was trying to work through their recent revelations . Hopefully they appreciated the distraction. She was surprised by how many concepts that seemed so normal to her were things she had to explain to them. Things that didn't exist here like trains were expected, but also concepts like detention, professional sport, homework, sacking, even the notion of a bank needed to be explained. Murtagh did grasp the concept of a bank quickly but he said they called it something else here.

A few notable events were Murtagh's and Eragon's disbelief at the concept of time turners – time travel was something that Brom had made very clear never to attempt – and their horror at the description of dementors.

"Can you show us this Patronus of yours?" Eragon asked when she discussed her learning of it.

"I suppose. . . I have never tried it since I became a rider, so I guess I should try it out, though I can't think of reason for why I should have need of it here." At least she hoped she wouldn't need a reason.

She took a deep breath and searched for an appropriate memory. Oddly enough, she decided that the memory of last night with Godric might work. The sorrow of two crying souls who embrace turns into something else, something powerful. With her hand raised she articulated clearly. "Expecto Patronum."

A translucent white Husky resembling her Animagus form sprung from her hand and started jumping happily around the room. She was somewhat surprised that her Patronus animal hadn't changed to that of a dragon, considering the origins of her new powers and the memory used, but it didn't bother her. Nothing seemed to bother her at that moment. A smile that spoke of pure euphoria appeared on her face as her eyes followed her Patronus around the room. It sat down next to Eragon and began licking his face. "I don't feel anything," he said in wonder as he moved his hand through it. "It's like it's made entirely of light." Helena just sat there and stared because all was well in the world, and she lived in the glorious present that didn't seem to have an end. She absently noted that she felt lightheaded. Perhaps she was drunk? She dismissed the thought as unimportant. She felt Godric poking at her mind in curiosity.

After about a minute Eragon and Murtagh started to grow concerned about her. "Ehm, Helena? Are you alright?" Eragon asked, giving her an odd look.

"Aww, your concerned about me!" she beamed happily and tried to give him a hug, causing him to back away from her and look to Murtagh in distress. "What's gotten into her?"

"I recognize this behavior," Murtagh said, sounding incredibly amused. "There is a plant sold in Urû'baen that induces a similar effect."

She kept on crawling forward towards Eragon on all fours, a wide toothy smile still on her face. Eragon stood up, crouched, and spread his legs wide as if preparing to dodge if she were to suddenly jump him. _That sounds like fun!_ As she was deliberating whether she should chase him as a human or as a dog, Godric merged his mind with hers and seemed to _pull_ on her emotions. Clarity and reason slowly reasserted itself, and the world suddenly seemed very dull and colorless in comparison to earlier. 'Be careful with such thing Helena; any emotion is dangerous in excess,' Godric warned her, and then retreated from her mind.

Helena suddenly felt like crying. She slowly sat up rod strait saying; "Sorry, I think I need a break."

And so, take a break they did, all of them retreating back towards their respective rooms for five minutes.

After she had composed herself after the barrage of contrary and unatural emotions, she called Eragon and Murtagh back to her room so she could continue on with her story. Before they began however. . .

"I don't think we should let anyone know that Eragon and me might have the same mother. They would only distrust us even more," Murtagh said.

Eragon nodded with a scrunched face. "I am still not sure what to think about all this. I want to get to the bottom of this, but in the meantime, yes, we should keep this a secret."

"Arya will probably end up discovering it in my head," she warned. "I am not good enough at Occlumency to keep certain secrets hidden while pretending to be completely transparent."

"Can't Godric help you with that, like Saphira did with Eragon?" Murtagh asked.

"Maybe. . .," she said uncertainly. "From what I could gather in our short confrontation in the woods, this Arya's more powerful than the twins. She is also more trustworthy, I think, so should we even hide it? Remember, Eragon has already proven that he isn't working for Galbatorix."

"I suppose," Eragon grumbled. "I'll leave it up to you, but if she finds out, ask her to keep it a secret."

Helena nodded and continued her story from fourth year.

". . . so I told them that Voldemort had returned, but nobody believed me. The ministry was using the Daily Prophet to start a smear campaign against me and Dumbledore."

"Where they hoping to make a deal with this Voldemort? Is that why you distrust authority so much?" Eragon asked.

She laughed. "Oh, goodness no! Nobody sane would ever want Voldemort in charge, except for the most fanatical of the Death Eaters. It was well known that he treated even his followers abhorrently. Even most purebloods didn't want him to win. He ruled by virtue of sheer magical might and fear, not by popularity."

"Some might want to make a deal still, just to keep their position or their lives," Murtagh said.

She shrugged. "When he eventually took over the ministry, some did, but it wasn't a 'deal' really. It was a simple 'do as I say or die' kind of arrangement. Some simply had more trouble going along with it than others, but I am getting ahead of myself. It wasn't greed, ambition, or malice that guided them. . . except for one particular toad, but we will get to her later. It was pure terror. I don't think I have properly illustrated just how terrible the first war was. The thought of those times returning was so terrible to them that they would do anything to avoid having to face that truth. Even if by doing so they ended up helping Voldemort. They thought: 'if Voldemort is back we are doomed anyway, so what does it matter?' So, they chose to believe Dumbledore had gone bonkers, and that I was an attention whore."

"Then why?" Eragon asked, still wanting an answer to his previous question. He was seemed both confused and a little angry at the wizarding world on her behalf which again filled her with warmth.

"Everything," she answered softly, and fidgeted uncomfortably; this was getting more personal than she was comfortable with. "There wasn't a single thing that I can point to and say: 'this is where I lost faith. I think it better to say that I never had reason to learn to trust in the first place. When I was a child, after my parents died, my guardians didn't care about me. My whole neighborhood chose to believe them when they called me a troublemaker. My elementary school teachers could only do so much with the Dursleys being uncooperative. When I got to Hogwarts, who helped me besides my two friends? When the Philosopher Stone was in danger, I warned Professor McGonagall, but she didn't believe me. Snape wasn't trustworthy; Dumbledore was away. So off we went. In second year, I was the one who stopped The Monster of Slytherin. In my third year, it was I who saved Sirius. In my fourth year, none of the so-called authorities helped me get out of the tournament. And, spoilers, I was the one who beat Voldemort. Yes, I had help from my friends – I would never have gotten anywhere but an early grave without them – but rarely from what you would call 'authority'. Most of the time I felt as if I and my closest friends, alone, had to stop catastrophe at every turn. I learned that problems don't go away, unless you yourself make them go away. The Varden are necessary I suppose; I even admire them for their dedication and will to fight against the odds. But ultimately, I know it will be up to us to take down the big bad." To be perfectly honest, Helena knew she was being unfair to everyone, but she couldn't help it. She knew that she wasn't alone and that plenty of people wanted to help her, but it just _felt_ like that to her sometimes. Suddenly she felt guilty for whining so much. It wasn't like anybody had forced her. She did what she did because she had wanted too.

"Up to the two of you, you mean," Murtagh added.

Helena looked at Murtagh in concern. The problem was that she couldn't refute his statement. In the end, he couldn't help them against Galbatorix. But she had to say something, lest he start thinking himself useless.

"You have helped plenty," she said. Eragon nodded.

Murtagh scoffed, clearly disagreeing. "So your people didn't believe you. What then?"

"Well I didn't know what the ministry was doing at the time. I was back with the Dursleys, having nightmares about what I had seen last year, plus some other strange dreams about a long corridor. I read the Daily Prophet, but I wasn't interested in anything but what Voldemort was doing, which I assumed would be front-page news. I kept trying to get my friends to tell me what was going on, but they were forbidden from telling me anything important; the reason for that would only become apparent later."

She told of the Dementors' attack, and the Ministry's response, the Order of the Phoenix; about Grimmauld Place, and her stay there, including her spending as much time with her godfather as possible while he happily began her on the path of an Animagus. Sadly, she would only have time to complete that process after Voldemort was dead. She even properly registered her form at the Ministry. Sirius would no doubt have been horrified by that, but McGonagall and Hermione teamed up on her with their stern looks.

"When we returned to Hogwarts, we discovered that the Ministry had used the opportunity presented by the lack of a Defense teacher – as you can imagine, it was getting increasingly difficult for Dumbledore to find a new one each year – to place their own agent in Hogwarts. A woman – though I use the term loosely – by the name of Dolores Umbridge. She had been sent to find more ways to discredit Dumbledore and me, while also preventing anyone from learning Defense. Fudge apparently thought that Dumbledore was training an army of prepubescent school children to take over the Ministry." At their incredulous looks she added: "Like I said: They would accept any explanation that would allow them to believe Voldemort wasn't back."

"During my first 'lesson' with her, she provoked me into defending my position on Voldemort's return. it had become a very sensitive subject with me since so many of my classmates considered me crazy for it. She used that as an excuse to get me into detention."

Helena rolled up the sleeve of her hand. Her scars had faded over time, but they would always remain visible. "She made me wright lines with a Blood Quill – an enchanted quill that uses one's own blood as ink. It wasn't only the one time she made me do it either. Over time the words: 'I must not tell lies', became engraved on my hand.

"That's barbaric," Eragon swore heatedly.

Murtagh nodded. "There are much worse forms torture, but torture is what it was. Couldn't you come out and tell the word about that? No doubt it would have garnered you a lot of sympathy."

"I didn't want to give any indication that she was getting to me. Admitting my troubles would have seemed like she had won somehow."

Murtagh groaned and moved his eyes upwards as if asking some deity to save him from these morons.

"In my defense," she said somewhat sheepishly. "I think Umbridge would have just had the Prophet print an article about how I was willing to mutilate myself just so that I can get her sacked or to get even more attention. They didn't really care about the truth. Remember how I said the Ministry was acting mostly out of fear and not malice? Well Umbridge wasn't like that. She was a sadist that enjoyed power and rejoiced in the suffering of others. Later, she was one of the people that had no trouble adjusting to Voldemort's new regime, and indeed, happily took part in it. There were actual Death Eaters that were nicer people than Umbridge."

She swallowed and tried to pick up the story again. "So I was getting these dreams about –"

Someone knocked on the door. "May I come in?" a cultured female voice said from behind the door.

 _Curses!_ She thought, and began to speak quickly. "Firth year sucked; Sirius died; it was my fault. Voldy got revealed to the world. Sixth year: Snape killed Dumbledore except not really. Then Voldy took over and me and my friends had to go stop his immortality magic – because he had that – then Voldy killed me; I got better. Then he died; it was permanent. The end!" Right as she said that she turned away from Murtagh and Eragon, both of whom looked scandalized at how she ended her story, just in time to see a black skinned woman in a fine velvet dress enter the room when nobody gave her permission to enter. _Well. . . we are technically in a prison; asking was just a formality._ The new woman had a confident air about her, and she wore a jeweled dagger at her waist.

When their eyes met, the new woman gave her a disarming smile that she would have believed if this entire situation wasn't based on the fact that they didn't trust her. The woman curtsied. "Greetings. I am Nasuada."

"Yo!" she smirked and lazily raised her hand to her in greeting, completely in defiance of Nasuada's courtly manners. She never did have much patience for such things; it reminded her too much of how some of the purebloods or Slytherins acted. What she did may not always be polite, but it was honest. "I'm Helena."

Eragon and Murtagh on the other hand reciprocated, with a polite nod in Eragon's case, and an elaborate bow in Murtagh's; both giving their names afterwards.

Nasuada smiled sweetly. "The pleasure is mine. My father, Ajihad, sent me here to inform you that Arya has woken up, though she is still very weak. I am to accompany you to her so we can put this unfortunate episode behind us."

Murtagh gave an impressed whistle at her honeyed voice.

There was a flash of annoyance in Nasuada's eyes, but then she looked at Murtagh speculatively. "You grew up among the influential in Urû'baen didn't you? I'd like to ask you some questions if you don't mind?" she spoke much more frankly this time, Helena thought.

Murtagh gave an exaggerated sigh. "Sure, ask away. But I'll tell you now, I didn't really pay attention to court fashion all that much lady."

Unimpressed by the insinuation, she didn't miss a beat and cooed, "Too bad. I am sure you'd look lovely in a dress." Murtagh merely smirked in response. "What I want to know is: how large is the outrage for the so called Northern Massacres."

Murtagh shrugged. "The usual." He made a fist and raised his shaking hand into the air. "Damn those barbarians! What are they thinking, allying themselves with the Urgals; what have we ever done to them?!"

Nasuada lifted an elegant eyebrow. "Barbarians?"

"The Varden, of course!" he said in an overly cheerful manner. "Why, everyone knows the fear of Urgals and Varden is what keeps most of the masses cowed among most of the lesser hamlets."

One of Nasuada's eyebrows twitched. "I see. Tell me, as a child, did you lie in your bed awake at night, fearing that we would come steal you away since you didn't behave?"

Murtagh leaned backwards and opened his mouth wide in mock outrage. "Why, I'll have you know that I was the very model of courtesy as a child. My nurses were sure that if any Varden came for me, my purity of heart would make their skin burn at my touch." He accompanied his last words with an exaggerated movement of his hands to the side of his head that wouldn't be amiss in a Shakespearian play. "Why? Are you sad that you didn't manage to steal my lovely company for yourself?"

She scoffed, but her eyes twinkled with humor. "I am beginning to think I should convince my father to let you go back to Urû'baen after all. Your terrible sense of humor would drive everyone to flee the empire in desperation." Her bearings grew more serious again. "We heard about the death of the master at arms in Urû'baen, Lord Berengar, though we don't know how he died. Do you know his replacement?"

Murtagh seemed to recognize the shift in tone and answered seriously in kind. "His son took up the position. A man named Barst; strongest man you'll ever meet, with the brains to back it up. He was one of my favorite sparring partners; you learn more by losing than by winning."

"I see," she said neutrally. "Do the Wandering Tribes still visit the city annually?"

Murtagh seemed genuinely surprised by the question. "By your skin color I would have assumed you were one of them. Why are you asking me?"

"That's not important."

"No, they stopped. As they are not officially part of the empire, they don't enjoy the dubious protection that citizenship normally grants a person. Eventually, the profit stopped outweighing the risk I'd wager. Their strange customs and language probably didn't help them make any friends either. Some of them don't even speak the 'civilized tongue', as most call it. People hate and fear those that are different."

Nasuada's lips seemed to twitch. "And what of you? Does my appearance and uncultured and barbaric manner make you fear me boy?"

Murtagh's head bobbed up and down, his eyes visibly roving over Nasuada's form. "Nah. By the looks of you, your people have finally invented soap."

The conversation continued between them for several more topics, with Nasuada quizzing Murtagh on various subjects related to the empire, with both Nasuada and Murtagh throwing veiled. . . insultish complements(?) at each other between their questions and answers.

After they were done Nasuada turned to her. "Would you please allow me to accompany you?"

"Sure," she said, somewhat dazed by what she had just seen. "I'll be right there." Then she turned to Murtagh, indicating that she had something to say to him before leaving with Nasuada.

"As you wish," Nasuada said curtly. "Your friend Eragon is welcome to come along as well." And then she left the room to wait for them.

When she left, Helena turned to Murtagh, a puzzled look on her face that was mirrored by Eragon. "ehm. . . sorry, I have to know. Were you two fighting, or flirting? I couldn't tell."

"Me neither," Eragon said, looking just as lost.

Murtagh opened his mouth; closed it; then opened it again, only to snort at them in a decidedly snobbish fashion. "You wouldn't understand." He dropped himself in Helena's bed and motioned for them to leave. "Just go you two. Don't you know it is rude to make her wait like that?"

Helena and Eragon shared a glance. Shrugged in unison. And left the room to go with Nasuada.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Nasuada led them to the large trolley system that normally functions as a lift to transport goods up and down the various levels of Tronjheim. They had used that same method of transportation last night when they were led to their cell rooms. Helena had been grateful for that. Tronjheim was almost a mile in height, and having to travel even a fraction of that distance upwards via the spiraling staircase in the central chamber wasn't something she wanted to do.

On the way, Nasuada seemed to try her best to engage them in conversation, and Helena saw no reason not to cooperate. They didn't talk about anything important. Helena gave the names of her parents and some harmless stories. Naturally the question about where she came from had come up.

"So where are you from Helena? I don't think I recognize your accent."

"I am from a small town called Surrey."

"And where is that?"

"A country called England."

"And where is that?" Nasuada sounded somewhat less friendly after the unhelpful answer.

"On a planet called Earth." The secret that she wanted to keep was related to her abilities, not her strange origins.

Nasuada shot her a dry look that Helena suspected indicated that she didn't believe her. Helena had expected that, but it didn't bother her. She spoke the truth; if this woman chose not to believer her that was neither Helena's responsibility nor fault. On the other hand, it could also indicate that Nasuada still thought she was being evasive. Helena didn't know what people called this planet. Perhaps it wasn't so unlikely that they would call it Earth as well.

"I am sorry for earlier; for making you wait like that," Helena apologized, because in hindsight, it had been a little to rude to make her leave the room just so she could have a quick word with Murtagh.

Nasuada smiled sweetly again. "I did not take offense."

 _Liar,_ Helena thought.

Nasuada frowned as if she had read her thoughts.

Saphira and Godric joined them when they arrived at the bottom of the artificial mountain. Godric had already informed her that a group of nervous looking dwarves and men had offered to escort the dragons so they could rejoin her and Eragon.

They arrived at a door that would have been inconspicuous if it wasn't for the amount of guards that stood in front of it.

"Here is where I leave you. It's been nice meeting you. I hope we can talk more later." Nasuada sounded sincere, but. . . well this was the problem with people that know how to control their voices and facial expressions like Helena suspected Nasuada could. If you can sound and smile sincerely even when you are not, then how can you ever _really_ know? This was the problem with interacting with people you knew were better at lying than you are at spotting lies; it makes it impossible to completely drop your guard around them.

The door was barely large enough for the dragons to pass through, but barely was still enough. They did cause some scratches at the outer wooden frames though.

She entered the room and her gaze was immediately drawn to the elf that they had dragged through half of Alagaësia. Though the princess – and how anybody could mistake her for anything else was beyond her – that sat regally on the bed at the end of the room as if it were a throne hardly resembled the comatose body that they had found in Gil'ead.

A wave of insecurity hit her as she laid eyes upon the elf. She knew that Eragon might – hopefully – disagree, but she had always fitted more into the 'cute' category instead of the 'gorgeous' category that this woman clearly belonged to. Arya looked like a fairy tale princess taken straight out of her old childhood fantasies and given life. She was dressed in a simple white blouse that reminded Helena of a hospital gown. Her skin was slightly tanned, though it did look a bit dull. Any visible sign of her recent illness ended there, however. Her smooth flowing hair was as black as her own raven locks, though the elf's seemed to be of a purer black and shone slightly as if dyed. Her scrutinizing eyes were of a wide almond shape as if she had something Asian in her lineage a few generations back. They were green, but not like her own. Her green eyes had always been a bit too striking to truly be considered attractive. Some – like Malfoy and other Slytherins – had even gone as far as to call them inhuman. Even while the elf was sitting, Helena could tell that if Arya were standing, she would tower over her like most men did, being at least a head taller than her.

In many ways, this Arya was what she had dreamed to one day look like when she was a little girl growing up Surrey.

A sword hung from Arya's hip, suggesting that was one of the first things she asked for when she woke up.

She thought she had grown past old insecurities about her somewhat scrawny appearance and late puberty, but to be fair, she suspected that this Arya could make any mortal women feel self-conscious about her looks. _Then again, I am not a mortal woman myself anymore, am I?_

Despite barely having had interacted with her yet, an instinctual part of her desperately wanted this woman to approve of her.

She didn't notice that there were other people in the room until Ajihad spoke. "Riders Eragon and Helena, and dragons Saphira and Godric, be known to Arya: elven ambassador to the Varden and the courier of Saphira's egg."

"Honored," Eragon started to give an awkward bow, but Arya stopped him with a raised hand, saying, "No. You needn't bow to me."

"Nice to meet you," Helena mumbled.

"Well met. Know that whatever else, I am in your debt for the role you played in saving me from Durza." _Morgana's tits! She has a voice fit for a musical theater as well! This is just so unfair._ She made notice of the loathing Arya uttered the name Durza with.

"And the Varden's as well." Ajihad added, "though I admit, our reasons are more selfish in nature. Her rescue will greatly help our cause.

"It was nothing," both Eragon and Helena mumbled, not meeting anyone's eyes.

"No," Arya said firmly with narrowed eyes, "that it most certainly wasn't. I can't ignore the debt I owe you, do not imply that I could."

Helena felt like McGonagall had just scolded her.

"Who is Durza?" Eragon asked after a moment.

"The Shade," Arya explained. "That is the name this creature is known by."

"Was," Helena corrected with a proud smile.

Arya, Ajihad, and Orik – who stood in the corner, simply observing – were all surprised by that.

"You saw it die?" Arya asked, her piercing gaze pinning her on the spot. "Tell me exactly what happened."

"Well I didn't see a body," she admitted, "but I know he used a spell beyond his ability. It should have sucked him dry."

She knew that something was wrong when Ajihad led out a weary sigh and Arya made disappointed expression. "He isn't dead," Ajihad said. "A Shade can only die permanently by destroying its heart. Durza will be back; as strong as ever."

Dread filled her at the news. It was pure luck that they had won the last time and she doubted the same trick would work twice. Worse, he knew some of her strange abilities now, and might share that knowledge with Galbatorix. _Then again, I got the impression that Durza wasn't exactly loyal to Galbatorix. He had offered to team up against him after all._

'Don't fear,' Godric commented. _'_ If all goes well, we will soon have allies that we can throw at Durza. Remember, Brom told you that numbers can count.'

'Yes, they do. And I doubt the Varden's numbers are greater than the empire's,' she retorted.

"We can discuss it more later," Ajihad said in a commanding voice. "Arya?" He looked at the elf. "If you would please be so kind as to begin the testing?" She could tell from the non-confrontational way Ajihad addressed her that he had indeed no more power over Arya than what she chooses to give freely. Murtagh was right.

Arya nodded at Ajihad. "Of course." She turned to her. "Thank you for agreeing to this. Please take a seat." She motioned towards a chair that stood opposite her own.

Helena sat down.

"Are you ready?" Arya asked kindly and Helena wondered if the elf could sense her discomfort.

"Yes," Helena answered. Because really, what else could she say at this point?

Helena closed her eyes and tried to relax herself in her chair, but it hard. She wasn't looking forward to this.

She had encountered Arya's mind before and was thus able to recognize it. She put up no resistance as the somewhat alien mind entered her being. In essence, she was now in the same position she had been in back in the forest where she had been at Arya's mercy.

Arya whispered the word 'Urû'baen' into her mind, and the elf searched for any memories associated with that word. There weren't any beyond some images of looking at a dot on a map and some vague feelings of dread. Next, she whispered the word Galbatorix in her mind and repeated the process. A memory of that one painting Helena had seen of him in Dras-Leona rose to the surface. The next word she used to pull at her memories was 'hatching', and the memory of Godric hatching for her in Teirm came to her. From there she seemed to, for a lack of a better word, _surf_ along her memories and thoughts that were connected to that event.

Memory wasn't so much a linear thing as it was like a giant web of interconnected experiences. One memory didn't necessarily lead to the next in time, but instead, the event that was most related to it. Because of that, it was difficult for the inexperienced – which Helena still was – to truly do a general inspections of a person like Arya was doing now; especially if you don't know what you are looking for.

It was easier for Arya than it had been for the twins since Helena was actually helping the process along; presenting any relevant memories that she suspected the elf was looking for. Arya naturally wanted to know how she got the egg but all she had for her was a memory of waking up in the Spine. From there, the memory of traveling as a dog came up, and from there to where she had learned the ability from. That was when Arya first encountered memories from another dimension. She spent a lot of time there, but didn't seem to be looking for anything specific, just going quickly from one memory to the next without even examining what it was about. _'I just want to check whether it is real. I move fast so that you couldn't fake any memories or prepare another description, even if you wanted to.'_ There was a slight pause. _'You hold answers to many questions my kind has held for centuries, and present many more.'_

After that, Arya looked for memories of Eragon, Brom, Murtagh how they met, and some of their travels together. Helena was surprised when Arya resolutely refused to look closely at any of the lessons that Brom had given her. Arya sensed her confusion and chose to answer it. _'The Riders held secrets that were for them alone. I won't take advantage of this opportunity to take that which wasn't meant for me.'_

Lastly, Arya looked at the memories of her in Gil'ead, and the confrontation with the Shade. This was one memory that got scrutinized intensely. Even in the submissive position that she was in this mental contact, Helena could feel Arya loathing for the creature.

 _'We are done,'_ Arya said after that.

Helena was surprised by that; she had expected to have her entire life examined just like what Eragon said one of the twins had done to him. In her current position, Arya was easily able to sense her emotion and probably even heard her thoughts. _'I needed to know on whose side you are on. that was the purpose of this examination. The memories of your actions since coming to this land have showed me that. Anything further you wish to share should be of your own initiative. We all have a right to our secrets and privacy.'_ There was a slight warning in that last sentence.

 _'Ah. . .'_ Helena began guiltily. _'You should know that Murtagh and the dragons both know of your royal status. I blurted it out before Eragon could convey your wish to keep it a secret.'_

 _'I see,'_ was all Arya said, not allowing Helena to feel any of her emotions.

 _'They have all promised to keep it a secret.'_ Helena tried to reassure her.

 _'It will have to do. We will talk more later.'_ And then she retreated from her mind.

Helena opened her eyes and looked at Arya who turned to Ajihad. "I can guarantee she doesn't work for Galbatorix."

Ajihad and Orik relaxed visibly. "To be honest, I had already guessed as much," Ajihad said, causing to Helena to shoot him a dry look.

He gave a small smile in response. "An interesting report arrived this morning. Tell me, _when_ exactly did you obtain Godric, and when did he hatch?"

Helena thought for a moment. "Ehm. . . somewhere in the latter half of November I think."

"It's almost impossible to get spies into in Urû'baen, but one of our agent informed us of a merchant family that paid a hefty sum of money to give their children a chance to be tested by the eggs in Galbatorix's possession. Our agent was able to talk to them after they left Urû'baen in disappointment. The report specifically said eggs, as in plural. This was done somewhere during late December. The timeline suggest that Godric is not one of Galbatorix's eggs."

"Well. . . that's one mystery solved at least," Helena said, considering, "but that just opens up more questions. If not one of the other known two, then where did he come from?

Nobody could give any explanation.

"If nothing else," Arya said. "This gives us hope that there are still other dragon eggs out there out of Galbatorix's grasp, even if we don't know where they are."

"True enough," Ajihad said offhandedly, "though Galbatorix will no doubt come to that same conclusion. Now, I get the impression that the two of you prefer blunt honesty, thus I will ask it plainly: do you intend to support us against Galbatorix? You don't need to answer right away, but if you have already decided, I would like to hear it."

"That is why we came here," Eragon said. Helena nodded her agreement.

"I suspect that by admitting that openly, Galbatorix might forgo trying to court you to his side and instead focus on killing you instead. Your ambiguity protected you until now. I ask again, are you sure?"

"Yes," Helena said, "I don't want there to be any doubt of what I stand for."

'Agreed,' Saphira and Godric echoed.

"Nor I" Eragon said, a stubborn look in his eyes.

Ajihad nodded. "In that case, it is time present yourself to the Varden, and perhaps give a small speech."

"What?!" Eragon and Helena said with equal amounts of dread on their faces.

Ajihad looked as if he was trying not to smile. "They have been hoping for this for a long time; they deserve to know that those hopes have been answered. You'll have at least an hour to think of something to say, and we do have something written down for you if you can't think of anything. That will be up to you, however. If you want to think of something original to say, that's up to you." He handed Eragon a piece of parchment and a pen. "You will be escorted to another room; Arya still needs time to rest in here. We will come to collect you in an hour."

Ajihad left the room and motioned for Orik to follow. Arya motioned for them to linger a little and whispered to them: "Remember, you serve all races."

When Eragon and Helena were escorted to a small room that was empty save for two chairs and a table, Eragon spoke to her. "This Arya is she. . .?" he trailed of, apparently unable to find words to describe it.

"Is she real?" Helena finished for him.

"Yes! I mean, it's like she has one foot in another realm or something."

"I wonder if that is something that all elves share. I also wonder how old she is. Considering elves don't die of old age, she could be anything from eighteen to over a century old."

"Did she find out about me and my mother?" Eragon asked.

Helena was startled to find out she had forgotten about that, which was probably why Arya hadn't found it either. A great victory for short attention spans. "No, it didn't come up."

Eragon let out a relieved breath. "Do you have any clue of what you are going to say?"

"Let's see what was prepared for us. If we don't like it. . . we will worry about that later."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

As promised, a group of human servants came about an hour later – there was clock in the room, so they knew it was exactly that long – to guide them towards the crowd. They could hear the indistinct mumble of thousands of voices all talking over each other, before they stepped foot outside the gate.

When they did arrived outside of Tronjheim; they could see that a raised platform had been prepared for them.

They had chosen to follow the script that had been prepared for them, since they couldn't come up with something better and it didn't ask them to say anything they disagreed with. There were a few personal alterations however.

When they – including the dragons – came into view, the crowed grew silent. Unlike last time, the crowd didn't consist mostly of soldiers meant to contain them if they turned hostile, but of what seemed to be the entire population of Tronjheim and more.

Eragon began. "Greetings friends. Our journey to get here was perilous, and we are glad to be here." People cheered and applauded. Well. . . most people did. Most of the dwarves, as expected, didn't.

Helena spoke once the crowed had grown quiet again; they had decided they would share the speech so as to present a united front. "We have heard much about the Varden; how you stand fast in the face of tyranny. That you fought against an enemy whose numbers far outstrip your own makes it all the more admirable." The applause was notably more subdued this time. They didn't like to be reminded of their less than favorable chances.

It was Eragon's turn again. "We two stand before you today to tell you that the hope that was promised you sixteen years ago has finally come to pass."

"Along with one extra," Helena perked up. "I don't know how I came to be here, or how I became a rider, but I am here now, and I will do what I can to help. And don't let my appearance deceive you. I am more dangerous than I look."

"We have both seen the forgotten slums in Dras-Leona, the salve trade, the callous disregard Galbatorix shows his people as Urgals rampage through the land. My own uncle died because of that and will do whatever we can to see those atrocities stopped. To that end, we would be honored to stand and fight alongside you!" This was one thing that they chose to alter, besides the personal twists about their own experiences. Originally the words were 'we would be honored to join you in the fight against oppression. Helena was beginning to see the Eragon who had spent half an hour entertaining servants in Dras-Leona with his stories again. He was a good narrator once he got going.

This next part was something Helena came up with herself. "Galbatorix is a mad megalomaniac with delusions of grandeur. He thinks that power alone is enough to cow the hearts of men; that you can bend the will of a people through fear. It may work for a time, but in the end, this belief will undo him as it has undone countless idiots before him." That earned her a deafening cheer.

"We pledge that together, we will avenge the sins of the past and set things right; we will have justice. A fair and just government will be established." Another alteration, originally it was a 'rightful government', but Helena had felt something was off about the wording, and after thinking it over, Eragon agreed. "We will fight for all races and all peoples." Surprisingly, this wasn't an alteration; she had expected Ajihad to only advocate for his own race, but maybe he was more than that. "We will fight so that our children won't have to; so, that one day, people will look back on this and know that they owe their freedom to us.

"And above all," Helena said, and then Eragon and she finished together with another line that they came up with themselves. "We will fight because we feel it is the right thing to do."

* * *

 **AN:  
I never received any flak for killing Brom. . . I wonder if I will receive any for having Helena think ill of Snape?  
Can you spot the Dragon Age quote? ;) It was tweaked somewhat but it is still noticeable I think.  
In case it wasn't clear. Yes, I did make Helena briefly go high in this chapter.  
Not sure if I am happy with the speech. It was the best I could come up with. Actually skip that; I know I am not happy with that speech, but well. . . I don't like changing chapters once posted (not counting typo's and grammar) so we are stuck with it. Edit: it has actually been changed once since it was posted.  
**


	18. Allies? (part 3)

**Special thanks to Beta CerealReader for fixing this story up. Author notes are never included in the beta so any mistakes there are not to be blamed on him/her.**

 **As you may have noticed, I changed the rating for this story. This won't affect how I write the story at all, but I want to tackle some subject that usually doesn't belong in a T rated story** **(that does feel a bit presumptuous and elitist now that I think about but meh). I know I can probably get away with keeping the T – this won't be any edgier than some teen books you find in a shop – but I want to give the rating that gives the most information, the rating people would expect, not prove a point.  
There won't be any explicit content in this fic. If such things come up (which is not certain) I will simply do a fade to black or something similar. If people do want me to try my hand at writing smut, I will post those 'special x chapters' on another site. Edit: this is no longer true  
**

* * *

After their little speech, they were led back towards the room where they first met Ajihad.

He greeted them with a pleased smile. "That was well done you two."

"Thank you," they said over each other.

"So now what?" Eragon asked.

"Now I would like a report about how each of you obtained your respective dragon eggs and everything that happened afterwards." He made a steeple with his fingers. "I know some of it from Brom's message, some if it from the twins, but I barely know anything about you, Helena. I need to know what is going on here."

"I will say what I can, but I don't know how I got the egg myself."

"Just tell me what you can."

Helena shot a glance at Eragon, wordlessly asking if he wanted to start. Since Saphira was older than Godric, his story began before her. . . well. . . at least this particular story.

Eragon gave a short but comprehensive accounting of everything that had happened to him since Saphira's egg appeared before him. When Eragon's telling had reached his arrival in Teirm, Helena began telling her part of it.

". . . so let me see if I understand you correctly," Ajihad spoke slowly once she had finished saying how she ended up in Teirm. "You got drunk in a tavern. Then you woke up in another world in a forest with no memories of how you got there, with all your possessions scattered around you and a dragon egg? After which you just began walking in a random direction until you encountered. . . something?" She had kept her animagus abilities out of her tale, so she had simply said she started walking. Truthfully, it was getting increasingly hard to remember just why she wanted so many of her abilities kept a secret. Yes, having Galbatorix or his minions learn about what she could do – and more importantly, what she couldn't do – was important, but she was getting increasingly sure that this Ajihad wasn't playing her false. She told herself that just because he was trustworthy, that didn't mean that the people he trusted were as well.

Helena smiled sheepishly. "Well, when you put it like that, it does sound ridiculous, doesn't it? It's all I have however. Arya will be able to confirm it."

Ajihad grunted. "Very well. Continue."

And so they did. They didn't go into detail about their training, simply saying that it had happened on the road to Dras-Leona, but no more. When Brom's death had come up, Ajihad briefly closed his eyes, but hadn't interrupted their narrative. When they were done, Ajihad leaned back, saying nothing for a while as he absently studied one of the bookcases in his room.

"Brom's death is a terrible loss to us. He was a close friend of mine, and he saved us from destruction many times. Nobody has ever worked harder towards Galbatorix's downfall, not even me. Even now his actions still echo from beyond the grave; giving us a chance at victory through you Eragon, and to a lesser extend through you Helena. I must also once again thank you for your bravery in Gil'ead. That you went out of your way to save a total stranger speaks well of both of you, and its results might also end up saving us all. I can't say I knew this Dormnad personally, but I will insure that history will remember the part that he played in that episode." Ajihad tapped his fingers absently on the table. "This news of a possible alliance between Galbatorix and the Urgals is most troubling. Especially since you saw an army of them heading in this direction. I hope that it is a simple coincidence; tribes of Urgals have been known to hide in the shadows of the Beor Mountains, after all. Still. . . that Galbatorix would even consider an alliance with such monsters. . . it is indeed further proof of his madness. I shudder to think what he has promised them in return for their fickle loyalty."

"Whatever it is, he probably intends to betray them once he no longer need them. He seems the type for it," Helena answered, though it probably wasn't meant as a question. "The Urgals were responsible for killing his first dragon, weren't they? I don't think even an insane person can forget such a thing. He probably intends to have the Urgals throw themselves at his enemies, and so weakening them both."

Ajihad looked at her shrewdly. "An interesting theory. You think the Urgals are being tricked?"

"I know nothing about Urgals," she answered, taking a metaphorical step backwards. "I just know that there is no way that Galbatorix will ever forgive the death of his dragon. I am not sure I could, were I in his shoes."

"I know I could never do such a thing," Eragon added, a shiver seemed to go through him as he probably imagined just such a scenario.

"Going back to Brom," Helena said. "He told us about how he helped rescue Saphira's egg, and how Galbatorix is trying to get his remaining two eggs to hatch. He also told us that he killed Morzan."

Ajihad shook his head in dismay. "Somehow, it feels wrong to hear such a great man's deeds be summarized in just two sentences like that. There is still more to it, but yes, that's a large part of it."

"Brom did say that there was more to it than that. That there were other people's stories tied into this narrative that we would have to speak to, to understand everything," Eragon said.

"Brom spoke true, and I will tell you, since it holds such personal significance for you," Ajihad said, "You are both in a unique position. To understand that position, you must understand what happened after Brom saved Saphira's egg and brought it to us."

Neither Eragon nor Helena spoke a word; both simply waiting for Ajihad to continue.

"When Brom brought us the egg, everyone was deeply interested in its fate. Some dwarves simply wanted to make sure that the new Rider would be sympathetic towards them, while the others were opposed to there being a new Rider at all. Luckily for us all, their king, Hrothgar, belonged to the first category. The elves on the other hand were leery of giving the egg a chance to hatch for a human. One: because of the inherent advantages all elves have over humans, and so would have more chance of success against Galbatorix. Two: because after the example that Galbatorix has set, they feared the egg would hatch for a human with similar instabilities."

Helena's face pulled together in distaste at the mention of such prejudice. Then the corners of her lips slowly pulled upwards. "I can't imagine what they will do now that there are two new riders, both of them human."

"Indeed," Ajihad chuckled, but from the look in his eyes she didn't think he found the idea very humorous. "Naturally, we of the Varden wouldn't accept such a bias from our allies, thus we started to argue. Eventually, threats were made, and it looked like this alliance between all the different factions that opposed Galbatorix was about to collapse. It was Brom who managed to calm those tensions with a compromise. The egg would be carried every year between the elves and the Varden and presented to potential candidates. An obvious solution in retrospect, but if someone like Brom – who was respected by all parties – hadn't been the one to propose it, it might not have been accepted. The elves felt cheated since there are vastly more humans than elves that could be presented as candidates. They wanted a compromise where one elf would be tested for every human. We didn't like it either because, despite that numerical difference, dragons still usually choose elves for their riders, but we could hardly ask for more."

"Murtagh guessed that the we will have a great deal of influence in who gets to rule next if we succeed in overthrowing Galbatorix, and that that is why so many people want us to be on their side," Helena said.

"Ah, so you are aware of the amount of influence you could potentially wield," Ajihad said with a grim smile. "You are not wrong, though many would resist your influence out of principle. The people have been free from such oversight for a long time and have grown used to such freedom." Ajihad eyes were dark and speculative. "Tell me, what do you intend to do with such power?"

"Make the world a better place, hopefully," she said. It sounded corny, but it was true.

Helena found it strange that her answer didn't seem to please Ajihad, considering his stony look. "And what of you, Eragon?"

"I want to do the right thing, but I am not sure that I am the one to know what the 'right thing' is yet. For now, I will simply focus on defeating Galbatorix. For now anyway. I won't waste any effort in thinking about what comes after, yet."

Eragon's answer did seem to please Ajihad, but it was hard to tell. The man could put on an excellent poker face.

Ajihad cleared his throat, indicating that he was going to continue. "Another part of the agreement was that Brom – a human, though as I mentioned, respected by the elves – would teach the new rider for about a year or so, then he or she would be taken to the elves to continue their instruction. If Brom were to die before the egg hatched, then the new Rider would immediately be taken to the elves to be trained by them without interference. It was another concession that the elves insisted on. This training was to take several years to make sure that he or she was as prepared as possible for the challenge ahead, though this too, is a point of great debate since we don't want to give Galbatorix too much time too hatch one of the remaining eggs. For sixteen years we tried to get Saphira's egg to hatch without success."

Helena shot a glance towards Saphira who was lying on the floor at the back of the room, wondering if she would make some comment. She didn't.

"Then, about half a year ago, we once again thought we were doomed when Arya, along with the egg and her guards, disappeared near the edge of Du Weldenvarden on the return trip from Tronjheim. From what little Arya was able to tell me when she woke up, she was ambushed by a group of Urgals, led by the shade Durza. Once the elven queen, Islanzadi, learned of the loss, she blamed us and ordered her people to stop supporting us." Helena recalled that this Islanzadi was Arya's mother, so she knew why the elven queen would reacted so strongly. Helena understood, but didn't agree with it. Islanzadi should have tried to get her daughter back herself instead of sticking her head in the sand. "The Varden are poor without any land to call our own, and most of our supplies comes from our allies: the dwarves, Surda, a few independent tribes, and the elves. As a result, we have fared badly in our efforts these last few months. Add to that the loss of the last free dragon egg, and you can imagine how bad moral has been before you arrived. Now that Arya has been recovered, however, I suspect the queen's hostility will abate." Ajihad took a deep breath. "Now as to your training: Brom obviously had a chance to instruct you both, but it was only for a month, and that while traveling. We must know how extensive – or inextensive – your training has been. After that, the elves will expect you to go to them so they can instruct you further."

That thought excited Helena. Not much was known about the elven kingdom, but all the rumors agreed it was a magical place. Depending on how long they stayed there, she might be able to fully master her new powers before the war with Galbatorix began in earnest.

She would also be able to look into a way to return home there. She paused her train of thought for a moment and wondered why the thought of looking into that wasn't as urgent or important as it ought to have felt. Did she actually want to say here? But no. . . she still missed her friends and wanted to see them again. So why does the chance to return home feel like a simple afterthought to her?

She stopped her ponderings when Ajihad continued speaking. "I need the two– no four of you," he shot a meaningful look at the dragons, "to be aware of the delicate position the Varden are in when it comes to our relations with both you and the dwarves. I already told you that a lot of them are opposed to the riders in general, didn't I?" Both Eragon and Helena nodded. "Even the ones who want your help, like king Hrothgar, will be wary of you. At the same time, many – myself included – will want to be seen as. . . connected to you. You have power, and that will mean many will by vying for your favor; paying tribute, invitations to exclusive parties, and other such things. However, to see the Varden going out of their way to, for lack of a better term, court you – someone whose influence they will want to minimize – will greatly annoy the dwarves. Now, keep in mind that the dwarves reserve the right to kick us out of their mountain city whenever they like."

"So, what do you want us to do about that?" Eragon asked.

"What I want is for the two of you to be as openly apolitical as possible; to go out of your way to show as little favor or disfavor as possible to anyone. Keep your opinions and thoughts as close to your heart as you can, for people will place a dangerous amount of value in them."

"So. . . do nothing?" Eragon said, his lips slowly forming into a grin. "Sounds easy enough."

Ajihad gave him a wry smile. "It does, doesn't it? But don't underestimate the difficulty in saying no to someone who comes to you pleading for aid. You may have no intention to share your thoughts and opinions, but I assure you, many people will come asking for it anyway. Beyond that, I have found that not showing favor while also not insulting anybody is a form of art that takes many years to master. Because of those reasons, and more, I hope to send you on to Ellesméra – the elven capital – as soon as possible; after you have recovered from your long journey, of course."

"So we can just take the next few days to recover?" Helena asked hopefully. A small break accompanied by the luxuries of civilization sounded wonderful to her.

"Yes, though maybe not for as long as either of us would wish if that Urgal army that was spotted is heading this way. Because of that, and other reasons, I _must_ know what you are capable of if you are to help us."

Helena's face contorted into a grimace. "The reason why I didn't want any of your magicians to look into my mind was that I wanted to keep some of my abilities hidden."

"Then how do you propose I account for you in my plans?" Ajihad asked with a raised eyebrow.

Helena understood were Ajihad was coming from, and she wanted to tell him. She didn't like keeping secrets and knew that doing so could have disastrous consequences. People had kept secrets from her in the past – sometimes for good reasons, sometimes not – and she had always hated it. And now here she stood, doing the same to someone else.

"My abilities boil down to me being a very mobile heavy artillery unit, but I am not comfortable with giving specifics. The only reason we survived against this Durza the last time was because he didn't know what I can and can't do."

Ajihad's lips curled. "Please, for all our sakes, don't let anyone know just how little you trust us."

"I trust _you,_ " she said, putting as much emphasize on the 'you' as possible. Well, at least she trusted that he was against Galbatorix. "But I don't– no, can't trust _all_ of you."

"When Arya recovers enough she will do a review of your skill, and report them to me, and _only_ to me. I won't share that information with anyone," Ajihad assured her.

"Thank you," she said, relieved. He was being more reasonable than she had expected.

"Now as to the matter of Murtagh," Ajihad said, looking at her, "I think you should be allowed to test your friend Murtagh's mind for deceit. Since our partnership is still in its infancy, I should be giving you the benefit of the doubt, and _trust_ that if you give your word that you will give us an honest accounting, you will do so."

Those words seemed to cut right through her. _Trust,_ she thought the word with distaste, _I gave my word to Murtagh, but to go through with it I must now give my word again, knowing it to be false._ _I hate this!_ No matter what she did now, her honor would take a hit.

"So, will you give me your word?" Ajihad asked, staring hard at her with shrewd eyes.

 _He knows,_ Helena realized with panic, _he is far better at seeing trough lies than I am at telling them._

"I. . . I can't," she said with pained look. _I'm sorry Murtagh._ Her hand gripped the sides of her chair so hard they turned red, though nobody could see it since they were hidden in the sleeves of her clothes. Godric touched her mind and tried to send feelings of assurances. At the same time, Helena could sense Godric's frustration at encountering a problem that he couldn't simply rip apart with his claws. Eragon must have sensed her distress too because he surreptitiously put one of his hands on her own, offering silent support.

Ajihad nodded at her words as if he expected them, not saying anything and waiting for her to continue.

After a few seconds to gather her wits she pleaded, "Can't I simply vouch for him?" .

Ajihad shook his head sadly. "Half a year ago I would have been willing to personally vouch for every member of my council, yet evidently some of them are now compromised. Do you believe yourself an expert at seeing through lies?" He didn't wait for a response. "Besides, what would you vouching for him accomplish? If you are wrong, then it isn't like we can punish you for it like we would anyone else; you are too important."

Helena cursed internally. "So now what?" she asked bitingly.

Ajihad's face grew weary. "He will remain imprisoned until he allows someone into his mind. Someone I can trust to be honest and unbiased."

"You can't keep him locked up forever." "He hasn't done anything wrong," Eragon and Helena argued over each other.

Ajihad seemed just as frustrated as they were. "We can't let him go until we know he won't turn against us. I take it this idea of faking a mental inspection was his idea?" he looked at her, and he seemed to be able to read the answer from her expression. "That doesn't speak well of him." Ajihad shook his head slightly and made an insistent motion with his fingers. "I will not bend on this issue. There is nothing more important to me than the safety of my people."

They weren't going to win this one, Helena realized. At least not now. "If you kill him out of paranoia, we are done," Helena promised, and Eragon echoed her sentiment.

The problem was that Helena knew that this too, was a lie. If Murtagh was killed she would be livid beyond words, but she would continue fighting Galbatorix, and she wouldn't abandon all the humans that opposed Galbatorix, (i.e the Varden) to their fate because of something their leader had decided, which might just be all that Ajihad cared about.

"I am not a monster," Ajihad protested calmly, "Murtagh will be safe unless he attacks us first. You have my word."

Some tension seemed to drain out of Eragon and Helena with that reassurance.

"Now as for your weapon, Eragon." Ajihad's hand disappeared under his desk, and he pulled out Za'roc and laid it on the table, along with its sheath. "I met Morzan once," he said absently, like he was speaking more to himself than them. "Murtagh looks a lot like him. I know it may sound hollow to you, but imprisoning Murtagh is as much for his benefit as it is ours." He pushed Za'roc towards Eragon. "I suggest you don't carry that blade around with you when you walk around Tronjheim. Many here remember Morzan's time with hate, especially the dwarves."

"I'll remember that," Eragon said, staring at the blade for a long moment before strapping it to his waist. Helena recalled that Murtagh revealed that Morzan might also be Eragon's father. She had no idea what was going through Eragon's head right now, but it couldn't be pleasant.

Ajihad nodded and looked at where the Godric and Saphira were standing at the back of the room, and gave a short bow with his head. "Don't think I have forgotten about you both, O dragons, all that I have said applies to you as well. Don't forget that you are the most visible part of a Rider's power. It will fall to you to guard them in these dangerous times. Don't underestimate your might nor falter at their side, for without you, they will surely fail." Ajihad bowed his head slightly, "I am honored to meet you both."

Both Helena and Eragon turned around to look at how their partners would respond. Saphira stared at Eragon. Helena guessed she wanted him to deliver a message for him.

Godric on the other hand stared directly at Ajihad in that way that indicated that he was contacting him mentally. Judging by how Ajihad seemed to pale slightly, and knowing what she did about her draconic partner, Godric was probably delivering some kind of threat.

Helena contacted Godric. _'There is no need to threaten him,'_ she admonished. _'I think he is a good man, despite our disagreements'_

'I didn't threaten him; not directly anyway. I simply allowed him to feel the emotions I felt when one of his pet magicians held a knife to your throat. I think that will suffice to inform him of my stance.'

'. . . will you show me what you felt?' she wasn't sure if she really wanted to know, but felt she was obligated to ask.

'No. I sometimes feel emotions even more strongly than you do. I don't want to burden you with them. In that, you and I are alike. Besides, it isn't like you can help with this, and keep in mind that your magic reacts strongly to strong negative emotions like anger. Exposing you to mine could be dangerous.'

It seems that Saphira was done telling Eragon what to say. "Saphira wants you to know that she is impressed with both Tronjheim and with you. The empire would do well to fear you. She also wants you to know that if you had decided to kill me, she would have raised Tronjheim to the ground and torn you apart with her teeth."

Ajihad didn't seem upset by the threat and smiled at Saphira and Godric in turn. "It is a noble thing to defend those you care about, and to seek justice for them if you fail. I would have expected nothing less from such a noble race– but I doubt they would have been able to get past the twins, all our other magicians, and all our soldiers combined."

Apparently growing tired of talking trough Eragon, Saphira chose to answer for herself. _'But what few survivors that would remain would be so ruined that my vengeance would still be complete.'_

"True enough," Ajihad admitted, "I am glad that wasn't necessary."

 _As am I,_ thought Helena nervously.

Ajihad looked warily at Godric. "Godric. . . you should be aware that you bear some superficial resemblance to Morzan's old dragon due to your coloring. Morzan's dragon was slightly different shade, but is close enough that people. . . may get nervous."

"He shouldn't be blamed simply because of a color!" Helena protested with as much indignation as she could still muster. She was getting tired of all these problems.

"No, he shouldn't," Ajihad agreed without hesitation, "but fear and hate can make people irrational. It will pass once they see you fighting at their side; I am certain. All I ask is a little understanding."

'I won't kill anyone for glaring, but I will defend my honor if challenged,' Godric warned.

"I expected no less,"Ajihad replied with a hint of gallows humor _._ "Now, lastly, I am going to assign each of you a guide while you are in Tronjheim. Eragon, you will be accompanied by Orik, the dwarf that was with us last time, if you had forgotten. Helena, I am going to trust you with my own daughter as a guide. If you have no more questions you may leave."

"I want to be the one to tell Murtagh he won't be moving around for a while," Helena said stiffly. She had promised to help him, and if she couldn't get him free right now, then at least she would be the one to tell him. Besides, if some nameless soldiers would be the one to tell him, Murtagh might think he has been abandoned.

"I will allow it, but not alone. Someone will be there to overhear any words spoken between the two of you."

"Fine," she said sourly.

Ajihad clapped loudly. "Sent Orik and Nasuada in!"

A few seconds later the brown haired Orik came in followed by Nasuada. "Sir?" they said in unison.

Ajihad informed them of their new assigned; neither objected. "If there are no more questions, you may leave. Orik, sent a massager to summon the twins when you get the chance. Nasuada, accompany Helena to Murtagh, but keep an eye on them."

"Understood, sir," Nasuada responded. At that moment, if Helena didn't know any better, she wouldn't know Ajihad and Nasuada were anything but a subordinate and a superior.

"Sir," Orik chimed in, "Hrothgar will want a report on all that has happened."

"I will inform him personally."

Seeing that the conversation was nearing its end, Helena and Eragon got up from their chairs, allowing their guides to lead them out, the dragons trailing behind them in single file due to the limited space.

Orik addressed Eragon. "Do you mind following me as I go deliver a message?"

Eragon looked at Helena. "I will be fine," she told him. "I would prefer to do this on my own actually. You can go see Murtagh later." Helena looked at Nasuada. "We _can_ speak to him later, right?"

"Of course," she said.

"It might be best if your dragons return back to the Dragonhold above Tronjheim until later." Orik said. "There won't be enough room for them where we are going."

"They have names," Eragon said, annoyed.

Orik looked contrite and bowed low. "My apologies Rider, it will not happen again."

Eragon looked uncomfortable by the show of deference.

Orik continued talking. "During your meeting we had a group of servants prepare some bedding, along with some fresh meat and water. None will disturb either of them there."

Since Godric was reasonably sure she was safe now that Arya had vouched for her, and he was reasonable enough to acknowledge the physical limitations of most indoor rooms, and it was unlikely anyone here knew about her apparition ability – he made no protests. 'You know where to find me if you need me.' And he was off; Saphira following after him after Eragon gave her Za'roc for safekeeping. Eragon and Helena then went their separate ways.

Nasuada and Helena used the pulley system to reach the top floor of Tronjheim. Helena was grateful it was just the two of them going. If she arrived with a detachment of the Varden in tow, it might give the impression that she somehow agreed with them.

"So why you?" Helena asked as the platform they were standing on began to rise.

"Why did my father pick me to be your escort?" Nasuada asked. Helena nodded. "One reason was that he trusts me," Nasuada said with small smile. "Another reason is because we are both women. I understand you spent the last few month traveling in solely male company, yes?" Helena nodded hesitantly; she wasn't sure if Saphira counted. "He probably thought you would appreciate the company. Because you will be involved directly in the war effort there will be little enough chance to work alongside another woman."

Helena did appreciate it a little to be honest. She didn't think of herself a girly girl by any means, but she did miss not being the only non-male around.

She missed Hermione.

"Was it difficult traveling for so long?" Nasuada asked. "I admit, I have spent most of my life in Tronjheim."

"It wasn't the first time, and I can get by, but I do miss the comforts of civilization. It's mostly the lack of sanitation that bothers me– that and the food."

A small smirk tugged on Nasuada's lips. "I hope we don't disappoint you then. Most of the food we get here needs to be preserved for a long time. It's rare we get something fresh. Tronjheim doesn't produce any food by itself, so the dwarves need to import from their outside villages. Especially now considering the season, be prepared for a lot of salted meat and a lack of fruit."

"There are dwarves that live above ground?"

Nasuada chuckled. "Of course. The majority actually. You need sunlight to grow food, and grass to feed your livestock, and that is just one reason. Did you think all dwarves lived underground?"

Helena had indeed assumed that. That was the stereotype, wasn't it?

"Then why live underground at all?"

"A love of gemstones and safety. In the past, the dwarves were hunted by the dragons, so they created safe heavens underground. I understand that Tronjheim has saved their race several times in the past by providing a temporary refuge from all kinds of danger."

Helena was silent for a while until she remembered what they were talking about before. "And why Orik as a guide for Eragon? Doesn't he answer to this king Hrothgar? Or is he part of the Varden?"

"Both," Nasuada answered. "As of now, the Varden are the only group that openly defies Galbatorix, and tries to undermine him whenever possible. If a dwarf wants to aid in the fight against the empire, he joins the Varden, but he is still a subject of King Hrothgar. If there is a conflict of interest, I suspect they will most likely side with their king, but father is wise enough to avoid such a situation. He always says: 'Never give a command that you know won't be followed.' As for why Orik? Probably as a favor to Hrothgar." Nasuada must have read something of her inner thoughts on her face. "Don't worry. Hrothgar is a practical– if prideful man. He knows he needs the two of you. Your friend will be safe."

They had reached the top floor and didn't talk until they were back at their 'cell'.

They found Murtagh where they had left him, lying sideways on a bed, and reading a book. He snapped the book shut when he saw them. "So how did it go?"

Helena hesitated. It went fine for she and Eragon, but not for him. "They saw through it," she said.

"Saw trough what?" he replied, and if Helena didn't know him, she would have believed his confusion.

Nasuada cocked an eyebrow curiously as well. _She doesn't know,_ Helena realized.

"Me looking into your mind," Helena said. She decided to be vague so that Nasuada didn't figure it out.

"Ah," he deflated, "I knew that was a possibility."

"I keep my promises," she told him, hoping he knew what she was referring to. She had promised him that if the Varden turned against him, she would get him out. She dared not repeat that with Nasuada in the room, however. Speaking of which, Nasuada started to look annoyed at their attempts to keep her from understanding the conversation

"I appreciated it," Murtagh said dispassionately. He turned to Nasuada in next. "So what is to become of me now?"

"If you refused to let anyone into your mind – as I am assuming happened – you will be transported to another more permanent cell for the foreseeable future. Getting food delivered this high up is difficult and it would all be cold."

"You mean that I alone am not important enough to warrant a luxury suite like this," he gave one of his trademarked sharp smiles.

"You won't be mistreated," Nasuada assured, almost defiantly. "The Varden are better than that."

 _The Varden are better than that,_ Helena repeated the words in her head. She didn't think there was much Nasuada could have said that would raise her in Helena's opinion more than that.

"As long as I have something to entertain myself with, that's fine. Having a few more days of rest and leisure time will be nice."

"I'll see if I can get someone to deliver you some books," Nasuada offered. "Tronjheim is home to a great library, which is arguably the biggest collections of books and scrolls in the world outside of Du Weldenvarden."

"Thank you," he said, a grateful sigh, "So I just wait here for your soldiers to come and escort me or what?"

"I would do it myself, but I don't know where exactly you are supposed to go," Nasuada apologized.

Murtagh sighed. "It's alright; I am just being an ass right now. Just go; I'll be alright."

Nasuada and Helena shared a glance, though Helena didn't know Nasuada well enough to know what she was thinking, and left after saying their goodbyes to Murtagh.

Just as she was wondering where they would go next, Nasuada addressed the issue.

"Are you hungry? The dining hall is about forty minutes walk from here."

"We could, but. . ." Helena focused on her own body and noticed that she was indeed becoming hungry, but feeling her skin sticking to her clothes, she felt there was something more urgent she felt she needed to be done. "Is there a bath nearby?" she asked, fingering her greasy hair. "It's been over a week since I last bathed."

Nasuada looked at her critically and made a thoughtful nose. "Now that you mention it, I wonder why my father didn't allow, or even insist you do that before your first public appearance. Perhaps he wanted to go for a more roguish and everyman-ish kind of look. Someone who isn't afraid to get themselves dirty with the rest of them?"

"Or, you know? Someone who has been traveling –no, fleeing over rough terrain for almost a week without rest?" Helena suggested dryly.

Nasuada waved away her suggestion as if it was an annoying fly. "No, there would still be time to clean yourselves up before presenting yourself. It's all about appearance– or the appearance of appearances." Nasuada's eyes glazed over in thought for a moment before she seemed to snap out of her musing. "The bathes are below Tronjheim. We could have food carried over there while we bathe."

"We," Helena asked incredulously.

A glint of amusement appeared in Nasuada's eyes that was at odds with her polite and apologetic tone. "I apologize if I presumed too much. Since most baths consist of large pools that originated from underground lakes, most bathing is done in commune. It's just easier this way."

"No, it's fine; I was just surprised," Helena shrugged casually. She figured this wasn't so different from taking a shower with Angelina, Alicia, Katie, and later Ginny after Quidditch. "But isn't having servants deliver food while we are taking a bath. . ." she struggled to find the right word, "a bit _much_?"

Helena thought she could see a hint of approval on Nasuada's face, but it was hard to tell. "They won't have to carry it much farther than they otherwise would have to, I assure you. The large dining hall is somewhere else, it's true, but there are other places. I can contact some of my contacts in the underground easily enough."

If Nasuada insisted it was no trouble, then Helena wasn't going to complain further.

After taking the trolley back down, they made their way down a long staircase that eventually turned into a tunnel that was obviously build with dwarfs in mind; for ones they weren't grossly oversized for that race. Eragon would likely need to duck his head to fit through if he were here. The white light of the lanterns slowly got replaced by those that shone a dull red. Helena had noticed that these lanterns came in a variety of colors. Along the way, Nasuada halted a seemingly random dwarf they encountered, and whispered something in his ear before the dwarf bowed to her, Helena, with a whispered "Silver hand," and ran off.

"Why did he call me that?" Helena asked once he had left.

"It's another word for a Rider. The Dragon Riders of old were sometimes referred to as 'The Order of the Silver Hand'." Nasuada answered. "Oh! I forgot to ask. Do you want new clothes to be brought to you?" Nasuada gave a considering look at her rumpled but otherwise clean robes. "Or have you already received some? Those don't look like something you traveled through the Hadarac Desert with."

"You don't need to bother. I use magic to keep my clothes clean." Cleaning ones clothes with magic was a lot easier than cleaning oneself with magic. Using magic on something inanimate was usually easier than doing the same with something alive.

As Helena began to hear flowing water, the light from lanterns was replaced again; this time by a green light. She was reminded of the Slytherin common room with its rough rocky walls and green light that was filtered through the great lake.

"There," Nasuada pointed towards on ordinary looking wooden door. Helena followed her wordlessly into a square room that she guessed was meant to store their clothes based on the clothing rack that was built into the wall. There was also a row of white stoney looking boxes with metal chains around them with locks on them. A row of numbered keys hung from a metal bar above. "To store away any valuables for safety," Nasuada explained. Wordlessly, Helena pulled out her magical pouch to get her shampoo, something she knew was extremely rare in this word and was one of the main reasons that most people she had met since appearing in the Spine thought her cleaner and more elegant than most. There was a reason that the insult 'dirty peasant' existed. Afterwards, she put her magical pouch into one of the safes, locked it, and tied the key around her neck with simple fiber robe that she found in a bucket below the metal bar with the keys.

With some mild embarrassment that had more to do with the scars on her body than prudishness she started undressing.

Nasuada's eyes widened slightly as they fell on the large scar on her shoulder where a Basilisk had bit her in her second year, but, to her credit, she didn't ask about it. Once they were naked the humid air felt uncomfortably cold on her skin.

"There is a small pile of swimsuits in that chest over there, if you want one," Nasuada pointed again towards what she had mistaken for a simply bench before. "It is mostly made for dwarves, but I am sure something will fit."

Helena ended up picking an ugly brown looking two-piece swimsuit for herself. She was a lot more concerned with finding something that fit her as fast as possible rather than looking for the prettiest piece she could find. She wanted to get into the warm water as fast as possible. She knew it would be warm since the air had felt slightly warmer when she had first entered this room, though still uncomfortable on bare skin. She also knew that she could just warm up the air around her with magic, but she knew that the colder she felt now, the better it would feel to submerge herself later.

Nasuada herself had picked out an elegant lavender looking swimsuit with a speed that indicated she already knew it was there. After that, she led her through a door that stood opposite of the one they had entered, and through which the humid air seemed to originate.

Helena eyes roved over the new location she found herself in. It was a cavern that had the feel of being natural, having an irregular rough shape that was absent in all the artificial tunnels that she had been in so far. Simple white lanterns mixed with green hung from the ceiling. That light was reflected off of several gemstones of different color that were scattered across walls and ceiling. There were a couple of holes in the wall that seemed to serve no purpose, until she stepped closer to the nearest one and discovered that a soft breeze flowed from it. _For ventilation,_ she guessed.

From the left side of the Cavern a small waterfall fell out of the ceiling and into the large pool at the center of it. There was no opposite side of the pool, it simply ended at the opposite side of the caver against the wall. At the closest edge of the pool stood a bucket with what looked to be a bar of soap with six simple wooden platforms that Helena couldn't guess the purpose of.

"Where does the water flowing to? Since the water isn't overflowing, I am assuming it needs to go somewhere."

"I am not sure," Nasuada admitted, sounding embarrassed by the fact that there was something she didn't know. "There is a hole in the middle through which the water drains away, but as to where it goes next, or where it came from, I couldn't say. I could sent for someone more knowledgeable to answer?" she suggested.

"No, don't bother. I guess it doesn't matter."

Helena dipped her toe into the pool and was relieved that it was warm. She had guessed as much but it was still nice to get confirmation. She wondered if this was a natural underwater reserve and how it was so warm if it was.

She dropped herself in the water and noticed that, while the cavern itself may look natural, the bottom floor of the pool certainly wasn't; it felt way too smooth for it.

"So about Murtagh," Nasuada began. The black skinned woman had seated herself on the side of the pool so it would be easier to talk to each. "What has he actually done to deserve your trust? If we knew about some of his achievements, that could give him some leeway."

Helena considered the question. Murtagh had helped save Eragon from the Ra'zac, but besides that, all the trust was mainly because friendship, and even that didn't feel like the right answer.

"I trust him, because someone has too."

Nasuada nodded as if she had sometimes said something really wise, which to be fair, Helena indeed thought she had.

"A person who has never been accepted before will swear undying loyalty to the first person that does so," Nasuada said sagely.

Again, that feeling of guilt that had been present in her ever since Godric had pointed out her desire of wanting to 'fix' Murtagh bubbled back to the surface.

"Does that idea bothers you?" Nasuada asked, apparently having sensed some of her inner feelings.

 _As stupidly sharp as her father, this one._

"I don't want 'undying loyalty'," she said pointedly.

"Why not?" Nasuada asked, sounding honestly curious.

That brought her up short, "Shouldn't it? Bother me, I mean. If I am a friend, then. . . well. . ." she trailed off.

"Then you should be loyal to him," Nasuada finished for her. "Which you clearly are. In return, he is loyal to you. Isn't that what friendship means? You show trust in someone, and they show trust in turn?"

Helena frowned a little. In her opinion, friendship was one of those concepts where attempting to define it could only diminish what it really was.

"It just sounds so," Helena's face together in scrunched, "manipulative when you put it like that."

Nasuada scoffed at the notion. "You say 'manipulative' as it is the vilest curse imaginable, but aren't all human interactions manipulation in some way? We do and say things so that others do and say the things we want them to do and say."

That _sounded_ reasonable, but felt wrong to her. "It's not all the same. It's about honesty or a lack thereof."

"Hmm, I am not sure I am following." Nasuada said, looking tentative.

"It's just that– well. . ." Helena made a frustrated sound. "I don't know! It just feels wrong to me, somehow." She had always tried to have her conscience guide her actions, and it told her this was wrong. The why of it didn't matter so much to her.

Nasuada sighed. "Do you have his best interest in mind? Do you care about what happens to him?"

"Yes."

"Then whatever else, you have already done better by him than almost anyone else in the world, I expect."

Now _that_ did make her feel better, and she found a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Not everyone; he once had a sword master that was like mentor or father to him."

Again, Nasuada made a thoughtful hmming sound. "And what of Eragon? What has he done to deserve your trust?"

It was around this moment that Helena realized that Nasuada was trying to profile their personalities and relationships with this little interrogation, most likely for her father. _Well, why not?_ She thought. _It isn't like there is anything to be ashamed of._

"He is a good man, and reminds me a little of myself. Besides, he is the only other free Dragon Rider who can understand what that means. . . and I don't need a reason to trust anyone. As I see it, you need reasons to distrust people, not the other way around."

"Then why your distrust towards my father?" It sounded like an accusation.

"I think I do trust him, but that's different."

"Different how?" Nasuada demanded.

"Ajihad is. . . he is not just a person, is he? He _IS_ the Varden, or at least its greatest representative."

"So, is it the Varden as a whole you distrust?"

"The Varden are an organization; it is as trustworthy as its least trustworthy member. Dealing with individuals is just safer. There are just some things that must remain a secret. I am sorry."

"You are referring to our mole, aren't you?"

Helena quirked an eyebrow. "You know of it? Are you a part of your father's council?"

"No, I figured it out myself," she said with a sharp and dangerous smile that reminded her a little of Murtagh, but it soon disappeared to be replaced by a worried frown. "I have been trying to figure out who the mole is without much success."

"Doesn't everyone get tested like we were before being allowed to join?"

"Yes, so that means _he_ , _she_ , or _they_ got turned afterwards."

An amused voice that belonged to neither Helena or Nasuada spoke up. "That, or they are smarter than whomever tested them."

Both Helena and Nasuada startled so badly that a large splash could be heard, and a small wave flowed over the edge of the pool.

Helena looked at who had spoken and saw Angela the herbalist sitting in a corner of the pool, looking like the cat that ate the canary. _How did we not notice she was there!_

"Who are you!? How did you get here?!" Nasuada yelled, holding a thin dagger in her hand, _and where by Merlin's soggy underwear did she get a dagger!_ There was no way it could have been hidden in that swimsuit and Helena had seen her store away her jeweled dagger in the previous room. This new one was so small that Nasuada was holding the handle between her fingers.

"My name is Angela, and I walked," Angela said calmly, still looking incredibly smug about having startled them so much. Unlike Nasuada and Helena, she hadn't bothered to put on any swimsuit.

"Hello Angela," Helena said, quickly having regained her equilibrium. This was surprising, but she didn't consider it alarming. She had to send a quick reassurance to Godric to let him know she wasn't in danger. 'Why does nothing exciting ever happen when I am nearby?' he complained irritably.

Angela pouted at her, "Why didn't you visit me after that first time?"

Helena was feeling a bit pressed by doing two conversations at the same time. _'_ Excitement is smart enough to avoid you,' she told Godric. "It just never occurred to me," she told Angela. Helena also thought it would have been unwise to associate further with another magic user in the empire. . . that and Angela gave of the impression that she was slightly mad.

"You know this woman?" Nasuada asked Helena, not taking her eyes of Angela.

"She owned a shop in Teirm. We talked a little about toads." They talked about more than that, but that is what she remembered the most about it.

Angela scoffed, "No, we didn't. You ran off like a cat with your tail on fire– and we couldn't have talked about toads, because toads don't exist! They are all just frogs!"

"Sure," she indulged knowing that arguing wouldn't do any good. Angela looked disappointed that Helena wasn't going to argue the point, despite clearly being skeptical.

"Do you trust this woman?" Nasuada asked in a commanding tone, still tense and her full focus still on the herbalist.

"Not particularly," Helena drawled; though she didn't particularly feel like they were in danger from her. Angela looked a little heartbroken by her words.

"This is a private area," Nasuada growled. "It is?" Helena asked, looking mildly surprised.

"I must have missed the sign," Angela sung in a dreamy tone that reminded her of Luna again, except more fake.

The door to the now revealed private pool opened, letting in a mousy looking female dwarf who – again, contrary to stereotype – didn't have a beard. She had two plates of food with her, one held in her right hand, the other balanced on her right wrist like a pro. Cutlery was included. In her left hand she held two glasses with a translucent liquid. Her eyes widened as they fell on the knife in Nasuada's hand. "Mistress?" she queried hesitantly.

"Could you bring me one of those as well?" Angela asked before Nasuada could say anything, eying the grilled fish on top of the plate hungrily.

"It's alright, she was here first," Helena said, nodding to Angela. Mostly just to mess with Nasuada; the way she was reacting so hostilely while she and Angela remained so unconcerned was kind of funny.

Nasuada gave Helena a dry look before turning to the servant. "Merira, place those near the edge please. You can go home after that."

"At least get me something to drink!" Angela whined, arms flailing, and looking like a petulant child.

"Yes, you are being very rude, Nasuada," Helena agreed with a humorous smile.

After giving both of them an annoyed glance Nasuada gave Merira a polite smile. "I suppose, if you don't mind?"

"Oh not at all," Merira smiled, "I will be right back!" she promised, placed the plates and glasses on two of the wooden plates near the edge, and ran off enthusiastically.

"So you were talking about spies weren't you?" Angela asked, smiling.

"Not with you," Nasuada groused, though she did put her knife away by tucking it into her ponytail. _So that is where she got it from,_ thought Helena, very much impressed by that trick she thought only existed in espionage novels.

"I think you said something about our hypothetical spy being better at the mind arts than whomever examines them?" Helena asked, pushing herself of the edge of the pool towards where her dinner was, and hesitantly set the wooden platform to drift on the water in front of her. _So that is why those are there!_ Helena thought, amused by the simple but clever luxury, and started eating.

"Indeed I did."

"I have felt one of the twin's power, but I don't have anything to compare it to. I have put myself up against a Shade, a fellow rider trainee, and an ex-rider. I think I may be overestimating the average magic user at this point. How good are the twins?" Helena asked Nasuada, trying her best not to follow Ron's example in table manners, thought it was hard; all of this was really good. She didn't care that Nasuada had said it wasn't any real difficulty for the servants; she had never felt more like VIP than at this moment. It was a nice experiencing all the benefits of being important for once. If she wasn't careful, she feared she would soon grow used to it.

"They are the best we have," Nasuada admitted reluctantly.

"Which should tell you all you need to know about how singularly unimpressive everyone else is," Angela chirped. "By the way, if you are not going to take that, can I have it?" she asked looking at Nasuada's plate. Nasuada responded by swimming gracefully next to Helena, and following her example in devouring her food – though with better etiquette it must be said – giving Angela an almost childishly smug look in the process.

"I am getting the impression that you think you are far better than they are," Helena prodded Angela, ignoring the byplay between the witch and the. . . could Nasuada be considered a princess? What was her status really?

"I have met wasps that are better than they are, also more useful, and less likely to sting you," Angela answered, which wasn't exactly the conformation of Angela's suspected competency in the arcane Helena was hoping for, but it did open up another line of conversation.

"I haven't had a chance to meet them outside of a potentially hostile situation."

"Lucky you," Angela muttered unhappily, "they won't leave me alone! They are always trying to get me to join their secret club, bunch of tattering, social climbing, arrogant, scorpion descendent, money grubbing, meddlesome. . ."

Ignoring Angela for the moment, Helena turned back to Nasuada. "The Twins don't sound like someone who would join the Varden."

"Not all of the Varden are idealists," Nasuada explained, "Galbatorix's draconian measures when it comes to controlling magic in his empire has led many magicians – more so than any other group – to flee in droves. The twins may not be very dedicated to our cause specifically, but it is either us or Galbatorix, and they enjoy much more freedom and opportunity with us. When it comes to magicians, the numerical advantage – while still on the side of the empire – isn't as lopsidedly unfair as in other areas."

"Have they been tested like anyone else?" A part of her just wanted to assume that The Twins were the leak, but Snape had shown that just because you have an acid personality, that doesn't mean you fight for the bad guys.

"Of course," Nasuada said immediately, "Magic users – more so than anyone else – are never allowed in without assurances. They joined during the time of Deynor, my father's predecessor. They quickly gained power and prestige by taking control of Du Vrangr Gata – a guild of magic users that support the Varden."

Helena hummed thoughtfully and shot an impressed look at Angela who was still stringing insults together. ". . . butt-munching, ass licking, big-headed, dull, narcissistic, conceited. . ."

Helena leaned backwards with her wine glass in hand, deciding to enjoy the show and satisfy her morbid curiosity in how long Angela could keep this up. How many insults did she know?

As soon as Angela realized what Helena was doing, she stopped and gave Helena a playful smile. "Word of wisdom: if you want to cheer somebody up among the Varden, insult the twins. It always works. Anyway, one of the reason I came here was that that it was a place those two whimper snappers would never think to look for me."

"When did you get here?" Helena asked. "Not here specifically, but Tronjheim."

"I got here about a month ago. After you and that other boy left with Brom, I decided that it was time for me to leave– well, Solembum decided it was time to leave and I followed him. He has always had a good nose for destiny. Probably why he talked to you."

"And what does that mean?" Helena asked suspiciously.

"That you are a Rider of course; what else could it mean?" Angela smiled mischievously.

"Why don't you want to join Du Vrangr Gata?" Nasuada asked. "They are always happy to take in new members."

"They just want me to share all my secrets with them," Angela dismissed with scorn in her voice.

"Would that be so bad?" Helena asked sadly; she still believed in sharing knowledge freely.

Angela gave Helena a considering look. "Depends. Bad for whom? I suppose it's all a matter of perspective. In any case, they won't get anything from me. I spent many years searching to discover all that I know. Anyone who wants to know all that I know can bloody well do the same."

"But you do intend to join the Varden, right?" Nasuada asked in something that could be considered an accusatory tone.

"I'll pitch in once in a while, sure," Angela said in tone that indicated she didn't consider it very important.

"Many years discovering all that you know?" Helena repeated Angela's words, "You don't look any older than I am."

Angela wagged her finger at her, "Looks can be deceiving my dear." She put her hands on the edge and pushed herself out of the water. "It has been a joy talking to you again."

And with those words, Angela grabbed her clothes which had previously gone unnoticed by Helena under a small crevice in the wall and swaggered towards the exit. A few feet before she reached the door it opened, revealing Merira with another whine glass in hand which Angela promptly took out of the dwarf girls hands without pausing in her stride, and then she was gone.

Merira looked a little lost and looked at Nasuada for instructions.

"It's alright, you have been a great help," Nasuada smiled. "You can go now."

Merira gave a short curtsy and left after Angela.

The moment the girl left, Nasuada's smile disappeared. "I am not sure I like that woman."

"I assume you mean Angela?" It was unlikely that she meant Merira. From what little she had seen, that girl seemed very hard to dislike.

"Yes, she. . . I just feel that if there were things she didn't want me to know – and I am sure there are – I wouldn't."

"You feel that she is smarter or a better liar than you, and that makes you nervous?"

"In a way," Nasuada agreed stiffly. She was clearly still off-balanced.

"I think a part of me feels that way around many people, including you," Helena said with a sad smile. She knew that she tended to be too straightforward to really appreciate word games and double speak. Perhaps she could learn if she didn't hold such disdain for it, but she thought she would remain a better person by not doing so.

Nasuada opened her mouth a little in surprise, and then she smiled sadly. "I suppose I can't blame you. I am what I feel I need to be."

Feeling suddenly guilty, Helena tried to search for a lighter topic of conversation while she consumed the rest of her meal.

"Can you fight?" Helena asked, thinking of the hidden knife in Nasuada's hair. As far as light conversation went this wasn't perfect, but it was the best she could come up with.

"Better than people usually expect me to," Nasuada said, without a hint of pride or arrogance, as if it was of little importance. "I am a fair hand at archery. How about you? I believe your exact words were: I am more dangerous than I look."

 _Where to begin?_ thought Helena. "I have some special talent when it comes magic, but I admit that when it comes to anything else – by that I mean physical combat – I am not that good. I think quick on my feet though and am no stranger to danger. . . also, insanely lucky!"

Nasuada made a laugh/coughing sound, causing the corners of Helena's lips to move upwards. _Yeay! Lightened the mood. Good job Helena!_ "We will probably need a lot of that before we are done," Nasuada admitted wryly.

"Can't say I am looking forward to that test Ajihad alluded to," Helena confessed with an identical expression.

"Oh, don't worry. That you have any experience at all is probably more than most people expect."

"Because I am a woman?" Helena frowned.

"Why does that upset you?" Nasuada asked, managing to sound both amused and confused. "It's good to be underestimated. Turn a liability into an advantage whenever you can."

"I suppose," Helena sighed, still somewhat unhappy despite Nasuada's advice

"If you were the only Rider we had, people might have been upset by it. Whenever we had Saphira's egg, only warriors were allowed to be tested; meaning mostly the men. We needed someone who could fight for us–"

"I can fight." Helena interrupted hotly. "I said I can't use a weapon, not that I can't fight."

"I never said you couldn't, but you admitted that you don't look dangerous. It is easy for people to make that mistake."

"That will change once they see me in action." She might not be able to protect herself from a fully trained magician as of yet, but her magic sure _looked_ more impressive, and could cause mass destruction with impunity.

"I am looking forward to it," Nasuada said politely.

Conversation died down after that as they both cleaned themselves, dressed themselves, and then moved on. Nasuada picking up a few silent guards along the way with a simple gesture as they made their way through the more populous areas.

"Do you know where Eragon is?" Helena asked.

"No. I could send someone to search for him," Nasuada offered.

The way Helena now seemed to have people waiting on her pleasure and direction felt mildly uncomfortable to the witch. She liked the luxury – or at least what passed for luxury here – but all this bowing and scraping wasn't too her liking.

"Thanks, but no thanks. I'd like to return to the Dragonhold for the rest of the day if that is alright with you. I am sure that Eragon will return there as well."

"If you are planning to sleep there, we could have some beds prepared?"

Helena thought about it for a while. "How much trouble would this be?"

"We would need to carry it to the trolley system, and the last staircase to reach the Dragonhold; nothing they didn't already have to do when they were tasked with preparing the caves for the dragons."

"Hmm. No, thanks. I think I will use my normal sleeping bags."

"As you wish, though I warn you that it is still early for you to retire for the day. It isn't like you can't leave once I leave you with your dra– uhm, Godric, but it might be difficult for you to move around without a guide."

"I will be fine," Helena said, giving a small shrug.

"Do you want to use the trolley system or will Godric pick you up from the base of Tronjheim. I assume you don't want to climb a mile-long staircase."

Helena mentally checked in with Godric who told her that she should wait for him at the base of Tronjheim.

Nasuada accompanied Helena until they arrived at one Tronjheim four main exits, the one they entered through the first time with the golden gryphon statues.

"Thank you for accompanying me," Helena said as respectfully as could from where she was seated on Godric back.

"It was no trouble," Nasuada smiled, "but I am afraid that it is unlikely I will have the time for it after today. Someone else will be sent to give you directions, or you can just explore on your own." Her expression grew more somber. "I will remind you that events are moving quickly, so enjoy these moments of rest while you can."

"I will. See ye!" And with that, Godric and Helena took off. Before returning to the Dragonhold, they spontaneously decided to fly a few laps within Farthen Dûr.

'I don't think I like this place,' Godric told her. He sounded more weary than annoyed. 'There is no wind. It feels unnatural to me.'

'We won't stay here for very long.'

'I know. I also worry about those icicles,' Godric confessed while pointing Helena's attention towards the icy dagger than hung from the edge of the walls of the underground valley. 'Most do not look up towards the sky for danger. . . foolish if you ask me, but those icicles could kill anyone if it falls on them. They wouldn't make any sound until it shattered on the ground or impaled someone. Even me and Saphira could be hurt by them.'

'I am sure that if it was a true danger than we would have been warned about it,' Helena tried to sound more certain than she felt.

From this height, she had a perfect view of Farthen Dûr's lower floor. She could see a few people going in and out of tunnels, not only at the edge of Farthen Dûr's but also from those further underground, with people springing up from the ground like ants. For such a large city area, Farthern Dûr and Tronjheim seemed to have a comparatively small population.

After over half an hour of flying, the dimming light coming from the top of Farthen Dûr indicating the coming of night.

'Saphira told me that Eragon is returning,' Godric told her to her joy, and at her following request, returned to the Dragonhold.

They landed on a large ring shaped area of marble that surrounded the gemstone, Isidar Mithrim. Between the circle and the large gemstone, she could see multiple pillars that held up the ruby's weight in the air. There was a small break in the circle where a staircase led downwards in a spiral towards the ground. There was what looked to be a small slide build next to it. _A unique and fun way to get to the bottom I suppose,_ Helena mused. The slide was small but so was she. She wondered if it would be safe for her to try it.

Helena looked around herself at the 'numerous' caves that Orik said could be found here, but she saw no more than three. A black metal vertical ladder was built into the white walls so those without wings could reach them. It shouldn't be surprising that there were so few. If Tronjheim was built as a haven from threats like the dragons as Nasuada claimed, why would they build it with the comforts of dragons in mind? It was surprising they even had this much.

As she was looking up at the caves she noticed Saphira descending towards them, wings outstretched to slow and control her descent. Helena heart nearly jumped out of her chest when the Sapphire dragon landed on the priceless gemstone.

"Be careful!" Helena yelled, "I don't know what the dwarves will do to us if we break or even scratch this thing."

'I do. They would make us pay, but you need not fear. This is no ordinary gem. As long as I am careful, I won't even scratch it,' Saphira assured her as an agitated looking Eragon jumped from her back. She noticed that he had exchanged his travelworn tunic for a fresh brown one that must have been provided for him.

"This is crazy!" he bellowed.

Taken aback, Helena asked, "What is?"

"All of these people," Eragon motioned with his arm towards the surrounding area. "They expect too much of us. Some of them act as if the war is already won now that we are here. Like we are going to single-handedly defeat Galbatorix and his armies."

"I am sure they will help," she tried to assure him.

"My point stands; we are not strong enough. It will take years and years until we are as capable as the Riders of old, and they lost, remember?" He took a deep breath. "I am sorry. I shouldn't place my doubts on you."

"They are my doubts as well," Helena admitted. "We will just do our best and hope it will all work out. What else can we do?"

"Nothing. And we will. How did Murtagh take it?"

"As well as could be expected, I think. If we haven't convinced Ajihad to let him go before we leave Farthen Dûr, we will have to break him out."

"You can teleport him out, can't you?"

"I could, but I would like to give him a horse and previsions before we sent him off. If we can't convince Ajihad I mean. I still think it is too early to give up on that idea."

"Yea," Eragon's eyes flicked towards one of Tronjheim main exits. "An old woman came to me before Saphira could bring me here. She asked me to bless a baby. Can you believe that? Me! I know my role, but I can't help but feel like I am just pretending." Helena opened her mouth but Eragon stalled her with a raised hand. "I know! I know! You don't need say anything. I'll stop whining."

"I never said that," Helena protested.

"But _I_ thought it," Eragon retorted. "I need to be better." His eyes grew distant for a moment. "If someone asked you to bless a child, how would you do it? What would you say?"

Helena mulled over that scenario in her head for a few seconds. "I would say: 'The love and courage you display on that child's behalf by asking this of me is more of a blessing for that child than any words I can possibly say."

"Wish I had come up with that," Eragon mused, "In the Ancient Language I said: Let luck and happiness follow you and may you be shielded from misfortune."

"They probably appreciated that more than what I would have said," Helena said. What she would have said was more dodging the issue rather than actually give a blessing. She hoped this hadn't violated Ajihad's 'don't show favor' request too much.

Eragon was quiet for a while, sitting on the rosy ruby gemstone with a brooding look on his face. Saphira jumped and crawled into one of the caves. Helena jumped over the edge to the ruby sapphire and walked up to him and sat herself down behind him so that their backs touched each other. She looking up towards to darkening sky, trying to clear her mind as an occlumency exercise by losing herself into the endless void.

She was so focused on her exercise that she jolted a little when Eragon next spoke. "You said that parentage didn't matter, right?" They were still sitting back to back so she couldn't see his expression.

"I think it is more accurate to say that it matters as much as people let it, but in a way, yes."

Eragon spoke very softly. "How would you feel if you suddenly learned that your parents weren't your parents, but that you are the illegitimate child of this Voldemort?"

Helena closed her eyes and tried to imagine it. It was easy to see why he asked. "I would cry, but–" She led out a soft breath, "I don't think I would change. _You_ haven't changed."

"I always fantasied that my father was some great and powerful man," Eragon said with a false laugh. "How ironic."

"We don't know if this Selena – this Black Hand – is the same as your mother. I don't think it is an uncommon name."

"They are the same," She heard Eragon say without a hint of doubt, "I can feel it in my bones. Besides, too many other things make sense this way. Brom must have known; I always suspected there was something between us. He must have been keeping an eye on his enemy's son."

Helena scoffed. "Perhaps I overestimated you, if you can believe that Brom was capable of looking upon you with hate."

'Liston to her,' Saphira pleaded from one of the caves, her head pointing out of one of the caves. 'Brom cared for you. He died for you.'

Eragon looked at Saphira without saying anything. Helena turned her head so she could look at his expression, but it was blank. Nothing of his inner thoughts could be read from his face. When he noticed that she was staring he turned to face her, and Helena noticed just how close they were. From this distance, she could see the pattern of the thin individual lines that ran along the iris of his eyes; it's light brown color along with its structure reminding her of a fire moving outwards from his dilated pupils.

Suddenly Helena felt very aware of her breathing, every exhale seemed to sound unnaturally loud to her ears. From the smell – or lack thereof – she knew that Eragon had washed himself recently just as she had.

She could feel a calloused hand cupping her cheek and without thinking she leaned into it. She could feel another hand holding her waist. Her focus grew broader to look upon Eragon's whole face instead of just his eyes which were now staring at her lips. His expression looked stiff; his jaw tense.

He leaned in closer.

She didn't push him away.

* * *

 **AN:  
A lot of author's do this, and I like the idea, so every chapter from now on I am going to recommend a fic on this site that I believe deserves more attention than it gets.  
Recommendation: A Melody of Water by 5power. It is a crossover between A song of ice and fire (game of thrones) and Puella Magi Madoka Magica. If you have read/watched both series (and if you haven't, you should) please give it a try. It has a bit of a slow start, but I believe it works.**


	19. Allies? (part 4)

Once again, special thanks to CerealReader for taking the time to beta this story.

* * *

Helena woke up early the next day.

Even though she was awake, her eyes were closed, her back resting against a cushion that was itself resting against Godric's scales. Godric's scales were warm, yes, but also uncomfortably hard and dangerously sharp at places.

She was considering the events of last night; trying to make sense of it all, with limited success. From the beginning when their lips touched there was a feeling of heightened awareness, like a shot of electricity moving through her body. Even before that, her heart rate had started to increase when she realized what Eragon was going to do. From a purely tactile perspective it was nothing special really; just some scratching on her face from Eragon's stubble, a feeling of wetness on her lips and warmth that had more to do with the arms that were hugging her, the closeness of their bodies, than the kiss. But just like hugs – something she did have experience with – it was the feelings that came from the heart, not the flesh, that made it special. Just like with hugs there was a feeling of intimacy, trust, and support; especially intimacy and trust in this case. There were some other feelings too; Helena didn't think she had ever felt more vulnerable than she did during that moment. Well. . . emotionally vulnerable at least. Comparing the vulnerability that she felt when she was helpless in a life threating situation to the feelings from last night was like comparing apples and oranges. Not that long ago she had thought that communicating mentally was the most intimate thing you could do with another person; now she decided that she had been wrong.

Yet despite the anxiety, she had also felt safe with his arms surrounding her, which was strange considering she had more often ended up protecting him than the other way around. It was what it was however, and the heart doesn't owe one an explanation.

At the end there had been a feeling of uncertainty, of 'what happens now?'. She wondered if Eragon was going to push for more than a simple kiss. Eragon had always been a gentleman with her, but he was a guy and guys always wanted that stuff, didn't they? Was she okay with that? She was curious of course, almost as curious as she was nervous; and he was attractive, but that seemed too soon.

Those thoughts didn't last very long however.

After they had broken the kiss they had looked at each other, and Helena thought Eragon looked like he was scared shitless. Both of them had attempted to speak, but neither managed anything more than some unintelligible gibberish.

A part of her had hoped that Godric and Saphira would have stepped in as mediators or took them aside so they didn't have deal with this right now. She would even have taken some light teasing. No such luck. The dragons probably thought that she and Eragon needed to work this out for themselves and that you couldn't solve problems by procrastinating on important discussions.

Yet procrastinate they did. Eventually, through all their barely coherent babbling, they both agreed they needed time to think and that they would talk later, and all but fled to the caves of their respective dragons.

Eragon's reaction did reassure her however that he was just as clueless and uncertain as she was. She had already known that of course, but it was nice to have it confirmed again.

It was almost ironic that she, who had come to believe that 'love' was the most powerful driving source magic and people could have, and had at one point invoked the love based sacrificial protection magic, was so incredibly out of her comfort zone when confronted with the fact that she now had a boyfriend.  
That part hadn't actually been confirmed yet, but at this point it was almost a foregone conclusion.

What would that even entail? From the few examples she had observed in the past, being a couple boiled down to a lot of shooting each other not-so-secret looks that make everyone else shoot you other _looks_. What _those_ looks entailed could be everything from fondness to exasperation to annoyance, but it was always something. There was also a lot of, again, not-so-secret touches involved, and leaning into each other whenever there was an opportunity.

Did she want that? _Probably,_ she thought. All she knew for sure was that she didn't want the relationship they had now to. . . to. . . she didn't want to lose anything. Change was inevitable, but she wanted things to be added, not traded for something else.

When she had reached out for Godric for advice she found him to be of little help. Godric has shared with her how he viewed romance, and so Helena had discovered that Dragon's didn't court like humans did. There wasn't a lot of uncertainty with them.  
A potential mate was worthy or she was not.  
A potential mate would consider him worthy in turn or not.  
If both conditions are met: relationship ensues. It was that simple. She found that dragons – if Godric and Saphira were any indication – were a lot surer of what they wanted than humans. Granted, discovering whether a potential mate was worthy or not could be a long and complicated affair, but the principle theory was simple. In the only example she had, Godric considered Saphira worthy but not the other way around. It was something she knew bothered Godric and she hoped Saphira would eventually change her mind. Helena had asked Godric if there was anything she could do to help and he has said that there wasn't.

According to Godric, even if he did find a mate, it would be different than what Helena would normally consider a romantic relationship. There was no vulnerability with dragons. They did not compensate for each other's weaknesses.

According to Helena, if dragons had a flaw, it was that they were _too_ proud. As justified as their pride was, it did limit them. She knew that Godric would never share any true weakness or insecurity with anyone but his rider. In that way, a rider was the most intimate partner that a dragon could ever have; even more so than any spouse or kin of their blood.

Helena opened her eyes. _Time to face the music I suppose._ The sooner they could put all this initial awkwardness behind them, the better.

She had decided that she was going to give Eragon a chance. If anything, she was sure that he would never intentionally hurt her. She suspected that Eragon was the kind of boy that her parents would have wanted for their daughter if they were alive. Someone who was powerful enough to look after her, but had this aura around him of being completely harmless.

 _Ha! Eragon would hate being called harmless,_ Helena thought to herself. It was true though; Eragon didn't give of the feeling of being a hard or dangerous man like most warriors did. Like Murtagh did.

When she peaked out of her cave she found a copper haired dwarf dressed in the same mail armor that seemed most common amongst the Varden's soldiers, at least dwarvish soldiers; the humans seemed to be more variant in their attire. The dwarf was leaning against the walls of the Dragonhold in a bored manner that indicated he was waiting for something. _For how long has he been there? Just waiting for me or Eragon to wake up._

She looked at Saphira's and Eragon's cave entrance and reached out with her mind. She wasn't trying to talk to them telepathically, but just wanted to confirm that they were awake. To her surprise, she found that Eragon wasn't there. Saphira was, however, and she was clearly awake.

 _'Yes?'_ Saphira inquired when she noticed Helena's presence.

 _'Where is Eragon?'_ Helena asked.

Helena could feel a sense of amusement. . . and pride(?) Coming from the blue dragon. _'He went chasing cats. Do you want me to call him? I have no doubt he will come running with all haste if he knew you were asking for him.'_

Helena felt annoyed at Saphira's teasing tone. Saphira was like a proud older sister gushing over her little brother's achievement; that achievement being Helena. ' _Do you know what that dwarf down there wants?'_ she asked; ignoring the matter of Eragon for now.

 _'No.'_

 _'I will find out, then.'_ Helena disconnected herself from Saphira and called out to the dwarf and waved. "Ahoi!"

The dwarf stood at attention. "Greetings Silver-Hand!" he bellowed, in his guttural dialect. "Knurla Orik would like to meet you at the Tronjheim's east gate."

"Which gate is east?" she asked. The dwarf pointed in the direction of the gate they had used every time thus far. "Why does he want to see me?"

"I was not told."

"Is it just me? Or do you need Eragon as well?"

"He will want to see Rider Eragon as well, oei, both your dragons too. Do you know when he will return?"

"No. Apparently, he is chasing cats." The dwarf looked dubious, but didn't question her. "I will pass on the message when I see him, and we will depart immediately afterwards," she told him. "You don't need to remain here." Waiting here just to pass on a message must be incredibly boring.

He seemed to struggle with himself for a moment, before grunting a consent. "I suppose there is no harm. Thank ye m'lady." He walked over to the opening in the marble circle and onto the staircase beyond.

Helena didn't need to wait long for Eragon to return, the dwarf might even have met Eragon on the way out, depending on the route he took.

When he noticed her waiting on the same spot on the ruby gemstone that they had kissed on yesterday, he froze and his eyes widened like a dear caught in a headlight.

She studied his features and eventually came up with something to say. "If you intend to keep kissing me, I demand that you start shaving." She didn't recall him having any noticeable facial hair when they first met back in Tierm, so it must have sprung up in the last few months of travel.

"I will," he said, and then dramatically cleared his throat. "Helena–"

He pronounced her name differently than usual. Normally people shorten the second 'e' sound, putting the emphasis on the first syllable instead of the second. What he did now sounded more flowing and classy, and had actually been what her parents intended when they gave her the name 'Helena'. Saying 'HEH-leh-na' was a lot easier than saying 'Heh-LEE-nah' however, so she understood why most people changed it; like a nickname that all but replaced the original. It had also been what the Dursleys always called her, so she had grown up thinking that was how you pronounced it and had always introduced herself as such, even after she learned of the original pronunciation. Helena's feelings about the different pronunciations of her name were complicated. On the one hand, 'Heh-LEE-nah' sounded nicer and was the name her parents had given her, but on the other hand, it was also what people who didn't know her – at least back home – called her. In many ways, 'Heh-LEE-nah' was the name of the Girl-Who-Lived, wile 'HEH-leh-na' was just. . . Helena. Voldemort had always called her 'Heh-LEE-nah' as had most of her enemies, so despite Helena thinking it more beautiful, she mostly preferred 'HEH-leh-na' for casual use.

Despite that, she didn't think she minded it now.

"You came like a sudden summer day upon a freezing village. And you remained like a candle for a child afraid of the dark. I gazed upon you and saw perfection. As far removed from me as the moon and just as likely for me to reach. I looked closer and saw some strokes that might be considered flaws by some fools, but I know they add to the beauty and complexity of the whole; they make you both human and oh so real. Helena. Though it might burn me, I cannot turn away from your fire. Because I feel a chill from my toes to my brow. And need to tell you what I am feeling right now. Whenever you look at me I feel hot blood rushing to my face. And so, I hope that at your side, I can find a place."

"Oh Eragon," she breathed, feeling very touched and lightheaded. "That was lovely. . . but I don't want things to be awkward between us." When she saw his crestfallen expression she hastily corrected, "What I mean is that you don't have to push yourself so hard!" In a smaller voice she added. "Though you can if you want to. . ." The thought of Eragon lying awake at night, thinking of some poetic way to express his feelings for her did funny things to her stomach. "I have already decided." She showed him her sunniest smile. "I will be your girlfriend."

"You mean. . .?" he looked so hopeful.

 _Is girlfriend or boyfriend not a word these people know?_ she wondered.

"I mean, yes. I want to see where this goes."

And with those words Eragon's eyed widened briefly before he rushed over to her and enveloped her in a deep hug, lifting her of her feet and causing her stomach to flutter again.

When he put her down again, arms still around her back, she looked into his eyes and found him. . . staring was too small a word. . . _drinking_ in the sight of her. It sent a pleasant shiver running down her skin and caused her toes to curl.

Deciding to take the initiative this time, she wrapped her arms Eragon's neck, pushed herself upwards by standing on the tips of her toes, pressed her lips against his, and closed her eyes. Helena didn't even care about his facial hair prickling her. She felt one Eragon's hands release her back and a moment later felt his fingers moving though her hair.

There was no uncertainty or vulnerability this time; just a feeling of running euphoria. _Huh, So this is what love actually feels like,_ She thought dazedly.

 _'You have an appointment,'_ Godric brought her back to her annoyingly busy reality.

Helena let go of Eragon's neck, setting herself back on the ground, and was embarrassed to find out that she had completely forgotten about the dwarf's words. _'Also. . .'_ Godric added slowly. _'I am happy for you.'_ Helena knew that Godric still wasn't sold on Eragon, but for now was simply glad for her sake. She sent him back feelings of appreciation.

"A messenger came by asking us to meet Orik by the gate," she said, trying to mentally switch gears from 'Romance' to 'We have a job to do'.

"Orik did say something about meeting me there tomorrow. . . that is today," Eragon mused.

"Yet you went off chasing cats," Helena said, sounding somewhat disapproving and incredulous.

"Werecat actually," Eragon said a wide wry smile still on his face, clearly still running high from his good fortune.

"Ah. Solembum and Angela? No!" Helena shook her head. _Getting distracted again!_ "Tell me later! Let's see what this Orik wants."

Eragon hummed his agreement and Saphira jumped out from her cave, landing next to the two humans with Zar'roc held in one of her claws, followed closely by Godric. Helena quickly mounted, but Eragon seemed to be having a silent conversation with Saphira. Helena guessed it was about Zar'roc, judging by how Saphira was presenting the blade, and suspected that Saphira wanted Eragon to carry it. Saphira was too practical to let the sword's history get in the way of practicality. "Symbols do have power, Eragon, but that sword is too good not to use!" she yelled, from her mounted on Godric about fifteen yards away from Eragon. "I don't care what it may have done, if it can save your life. Just take it!"

"Even leaving aside what others will think of me, I don't know if I want to carry around any connection to Morzan," Eragon protested.

Helena was silent after that, letting Saphira do the talking. If Eragon didn't want to carry the weapon that was his right. After what Helena guessed was about a minute, Eragon reluctantly picked up the red blade; holding it and looking at it as if it was a deadly snake that might strike at him at any moment before sheathing it. After that, Eragon climbed on Saphira and they were off.

As they rose above Tronjheim, Helena again inspected her surroundings. Before now, every time she looked at Tronjheim from dragon's back, it had been evening, with little light available. Now that she could see it better she noticed that the underground refuge had a total diameter of ten miles. She also noticed – through Godric's enhanced vision – that on the others side of the city stood a large field where men seemed to engaging in combat practices.

When they landed, Orik ran up to them and addressed them before they even had a chance to dismount. "Finally! My king, Hrothgar, wishes to see all of you. Dismount quickly. We must hurry; Hrothgar's time is precious."

When they climbed down from their saddles, Orik grabbed them by their wrists and all but dragged them forward, Godric and Saphira trotting after them, making less noise than what you would expect from creatures that large. Helena noticed that they were all attracting a great deal of gawkers, but everyone swiftly moved out of their way and made no move to come closer or follow.

"It will be a small private audience with only you and the king present," Orik said, not pausing his stride. "It is meant as act of otho—of 'faith'. You don't need to address him in any special way, but _be respectful_! Hrothgar has a temper, but he is just and wise, and sees keenly into the hearts of others. Be mindful of what you say and, whatever you do, do not try to play him false."

They made their way to the large central chamber, and from there entered the right corridor which led to a descending staircase which curved sharply. Orik released them at that point – dragging someone through a descending staircase was just asking for someone to fall – but he kept up the swift pace. The corridor curved so sharply that Helena suspected that they had already made a complete turn-around. They might even be directly under the central chamber at this point. They stopped in front of a large granite double door with a seven-pointed crown carved into it in silver. She remembered seeing the symbol once before when they had first entered Farthen Dûr. Seven stoic looking dwarves stood guard in front of the door, dressed in gem-incrusted armor that looked like it was made as much to impress as for protection. They were armed with large mattocks that looked so large and heavy that she doubted she would be able to lift them without magic.

"Is that Hrothgar's heraldry?" Eragon asked, looking at the carved symbol on the door.

"It is the symbol of the king's office," Orik answered, and then motioned to one of the seven guards who pounded on the door with the haft of his weapon.

The door slowly opened, seemingly out of its own volition, and Orik bowed. "The king awaits you," he motioned with his hands towards the now open door.

Helena briefly entertained the notion of holding Eragon's hand when approaching the king but quickly decided it was probably not a good idea; professionalism was key here.

The room they entered looked natural and was very dimly lit by a scarce few lanterns and nearly as large as the central chamber of Tronjheim, if more oval in shape instead of circular. Several stalagmites and stalactites covered the floor and ceiling, most of them being taller and thicker than she was, though the middle of the room was clear of them. The middle of the room was also more polished than the rest of the chamber, the line where the wild and rough nature ended and the dwarven design began was dotted with statues of crowned dwarves sitting upon onyx thrones. These statues – as seemed to be the norm with dwarven sculptures – were more than twice as large as she was. At the base of each throne, a name was carved along with a few numbers.

The somber look of the place smothered the last feelings of elation that had run through her since Eragon's confession, instead making her feel wary and alert.

At the end of the long cave was another smaller throne on a raised dais that was as blocky and precisely cut as the thrones of the statues and looked very uncomfortable to sit on. Despite that, or maybe because of it, Helena couldn't deny the strength and solemnity that it seemed to emanate. That feeling had a lot to do with the other statues in the room which were clearly meant to depict the previous kings. It seemed to say: 'this is but a small part of a very large and successful history. Many kings have ruled before you and many will after your bones are but dust in the ground.'

On the throne sat the oldest looking dwarf she had seen thus far. He was tall for his race, almost as tall as she was, though of course with a much stronger build. He was dressed in simple shirt of mail as if he was expecting to be called to battle at any moment. The large war hammer on his lap added to the image of a leader who led from the front. He wore a helm and that was the only thing about his attire that was of a higher quality than that the average warrior, being heavily ornamented and covered with tiny gems. It was the signs of his age – the lines on his face, the white beard that was tucked under his belt; combined with his marshal appearance, that made him seem incredibly formidable and wise.

Foolish soldiers did not grow as old as he was.

Helena noticed Eragon looking at her as if waiting to see what she would do. Helena didn't know what she was supposed to do, so she simply stood and waited tensely. Orik did say that she didn't need to address him in any special way so she figured that was okay.  
The king stirred as if waking from a long sleep, shot them a brief glance and lifted his head towards the ceiling and droned, "Âz knurl deimi lanok." Helean didn't think she had ever heard a voice that deep before. It also had an almost tired quality to it which oddly drew attention to each word; the words themselves seemed to echo through the chamber. The king lowered his head and looked at them again. "It is a relatively new saying among my people: 'Beware, the rock changes.' And now it changes faster than some can keep up. We dwarves are the oldest race in Alagaësia; older than the fair elves or the savage dragons." She felt a small spike of annoyance from Godric, but it wasn't that bad. Dragons could rightfully be considered savage in comparison to humans, and Godric wasn't likely to be offended by truth. It was the way he said it that was irritating, almost but not quite an insult. "And we are slow to change. I would have liked to meet with your yesterday, or even when you first arrived, but I had to cool down some fires among the more radical within the clans, but I am getting ahead of myself. My name is Hrothgar – grimstborith of d _û_ rgrimst ingeitum and the forty secondth Grimammelekh of our race. The forty secondth king of the dwarves as you would understand it. I wish to formally welcome you to Farthen Dûr and extend our hospitality for the foreseeable future."

 _For the foreseeable future,_ Helena thought sardonically, _how nice and noncommittal._

"I am Helena Potter, or Helena daughter-of-Lily I suppose," She felt like she should maybe bow or something, but she remained frozen in place. Helena wasn't used to courtly courtesies, nor did she grow up in a society that was all that big on formality. The ones that were, were usually people that she didn't want anything to do with. "It is nice to meet you."

"I am Eragon son of no one. I am honored to meet you as well." Eragon gave a nod that could only generously be called a bow. Helena got the feeling that he would have done it properly if she hadn't _not_ done it first. Helena was starting to wish that Eragon had taken the lead in this introduction. She was not someone that you should take your social cues on how to be properly respectful from. She could politely talk to an equal – which according to her should be almost everyone at this point – but not this.

Helena wondered if she should introduce Godric, or if he would do it himself. Considering that Hrothgar had lifted his gaze slightly to look at Godric and Saphira it was clear he wasn't going to ignore them.

 _'I am Godric. Partner dragon to Helena,'_ Godric's mental voice rumbled in their heads.

 _'I am Saphira, partner to Eragon. I do not know my lineage. I am grateful on your efforts on our behalf and letting us stay in_ _Farthen Dûr_ _,'_ Saphira spoke in her slightly softer but just as heavy voice.

Hrothgar acknowledged their greeting with a curt nod and then continued to monologue. "I am old – even by the standards of dwarves – old enough to have been alive, and ruling, during the time of the Riders, in all their fleeting glory, old enough to have spoken with their last leader, Vrael, who paid tribute to me; who stood and bowed at the very spot where you now stand."

 _Yep, definitely a faux pass,_ she thought. Though it was late, she held her arms stiffly to her side and bent her back; Eragon swiftly following her example.

Hrothgar chuckled. "Have no fear. I can tell when someone intends insult and when they simply do not know better. Though if you want to learn the proper custom, Helena, I advise you to learn how to curtsey. You may rise."

 _Fat chance of that,_ Helena scoffed internally, and straightened; Eragon doing the same.

"Note, that you do not have, and did not have, an _obligation_ to bow to me; it is was simply a manner of proper custom and respect," Hrothgar continued. "As I was saying, I remember how the Riders of old kept the peace that allowed one to walk from Tronjheim to Narda without fear. I also remembered how the Riders meddled in our affairs. And now you stand before me – a lost tradition revived – and you say you want to help us fight the fallen member of your order, Galbatorix." Our order, Helena thought, implying that it is our fault and responsibility. Hrothgar leaned forward and looked at them intently. "Ajihad has informed me of your talks." His eyes flicked to Helena. "You told Ajihad that your goal is to 'make the world a better place'." The words were clearly mocking. "Did you speak true?"

The tone of voice he used in the end made Helena feel that if she was to say 'yes', she would be walking into some kind of trap. She had no idea how what she said could be twisted into something negative, but that is what she feared was going to happen.

"That was what I said," she admitted, feeling like she just admitted to having been out onto the Hogwarts corridors at night.

"After the destruction that Galbatorix and his Forsworn caused – though I admit that of all the civilized races, we suffered the least – many among my people wanted nothing more to do with your kind. When you entered Farthen Dûr, there were many who wished for me to bar your entry. The more reasonable amongst the knurla know that we need you if we are to defeat Galbatorix. I do not believe he will simply let us be if we ignore him. That said, their fears are not baseless. We do not want to help you fight Galbatorix only for another power-hungry rider to replace him."

Helena gritted her teeth with suppressed anger at the unsubtle insinuation. She took a deep breath to calm herself. "Power-hungry?" she bit out.

"Yes, power-hungry," Hrothgar repeated calmly. "Tell me child, what is power?"

"It's. . ." she trailed of; she thought she knew what power was but she found it difficult to put into words.

Hrothgar chose to answer his own question. "Money, political influence, strength, magic, authority, all of these things are a part of it, but it can be boiled down to a one thing. Power is one's ability to change the world around you; to change it the way you want it to be. To want to change the world, even if you have the best of intentions, that is to want _power_ _."_

Helena had no idea what to say to that. What he said made sense, but she had always learned that only bad people searched for power. ' _There is only power, and those too weak_ to seek it,' she remembered Voldemort saying to her so long ago.

When she didn't refute his statement, Hrothgar continued. "Our scholars have another name for the Riders. Do you know what it is?" He waited only a second for a reply before continuing. "Kings of the sky we called them; because every rider and dragon were like a king unto themselves. They could overrule any other magistrate or ruler, even a proper king – except for the elves who had the power to gainsay them. I admit that they acted justly more often than not, but that doesn't mean that they had a right to that power. Galbatorix's actions were monstrous, but in many ways, the years since his assent to the throne in _Urû_ _'_ bae _n_ have been the only years we have been truly free in over two millennia. If it wasn't commonly accepted that Galbatorix wishes to rule over all Alagaësia, including us, some of my people would likely thank him in secret."

Behind her, Godric and Saphira stood up and growled menacingly at the ancient king; she felt the rage coming from Godric. Helena herself felt her blood go hot and felt disturbed by what she was hearing.

Hrothgar wasn't intimidated by the dragons' hostility. "But Galbatorix does want to rule all the world, so it doesn't matter. My point is that while we do plan to support the Varden in fighting the empire, we will not tolerate your meddling in our affairs any more. You say you wish to change the world for the better? If we could all agree what 'better' means that wouldn't be a problem, but as it is, it is a danger."

"You want us to just be a mindless soldiers without an opinion?" Helena tried to keep her voice even with great difficulty.

"What I– what _we_ truly want is accountability, and for you to respect the laws of the land you are in. I was informed about that little speech you gave yesterday, and of the original version Ajihad gave you, which you altered. The change from rightful government to fair and just may seem small, but the implication of it is well understood. We fear you care more about what _you_ would consider fair and just than you care about the laws, traditions, and opinions of others. I said that the riders of old were kings, but in actuality they were more than that, since I can be deposed if enough of my people want it. Only twice in our history has a king ruled so badly that this has happened, but that it _could_ happen _matters_. I am not an absolute ruler. I am bound by Laws and traditions that are older than I. What binds you? Who can bring you to task if you commit a wrong?"

"What do you want from me?" Helena asked, frustrated. "I didn't come here to make trouble."

"Most who make trouble never intend to do so," Hrothgar said sadly. "I hear that you are from far way. Is this true?"

"It is."

"Do you plan to return there some day?"

"That is the hope."

"If you make a statement that you want to return from whence you came once the war is done, that would allow me to placate many among the clans."

Helena could hardly believe the audacity of what she was hearing. 'Please help us in our war and afterwards, kindly piss off.' Seriously?

Eragon – who had been mostly silent thus far – stepped in front her, lifting his arm in between Hrothgar and Helena as if shielding her from the king's words. "Are you really saying that is wrong to want to change the world for the better? If that is true then we lose any reason we have for fighting other than vengeance; only selfishness would remain. Helena isn't from this land. She has no stake in this; no reason to fight other than what her heart is telling her. Spit on that and you spit on her only reason for helping you. By all rights, she should just leave you all to your fate after this display, but she won't because that's who she is, but I will not stand for it! Insult her again, and king or no, I will see you answer for it."

"It. Is. Not. Wrong," Hrothgar said, leaning forward and punctuating every word. "It is noble and heroic, when tempered by reason. My words were not meant as an accusation or insult, but as a warning, and to learn of your intentions. My people will stand _with_ you in the war against Galbatorix, but we will not fight _for_ you, but for _our_ freedom. And afterwards? You want to change the world for the better? You can't do it with force. No true good can come of that." The king breathed in deeply. "Do you plan to take Galbatorix's throne for yourself?" There was a warning in Hrothgar's eyes.

"No way," Helena said vehemently. _A poor reward that would be._

"We don't seek a crown," Eragon said, still standing in front of her, though he had lowered his arm. "Being a rider is responsibility enough. Instead we hope to find someone worthy and throw our support behind him."

"So you won't rule yourself, but you will deign to pick who sits the human throne? How is that different? If the human king is only the human king because you decide that he is, then he is but a puppet, and you are still the true rulers. I would almost prefer that you do take the throne for yourself; it would be more honest. I don't want to imply that you can't make your opinions known, or try to change people's minds, but you must use reason and rhetoric, not violence or strong-arming."

Everything that he was saying made a certain kind of sense. . . and Helena didn't like it. "I will consider what you have said."

Hrothgar nodded gravely. "No mortal race should have a ruler who does not age or leave the throne. I apologies for the distress I caused you, but I needed you to be aware of my people's goals and fears."

"We understand," Eragon said in a low tone of voice. Helena said nothing, but she understood as well, to a certain extent. A part of her longed to argue with him, but she feared that if she were to say anything, she would make things worse.

"There is one other matter," Hrothgar said, he looked a little less grave than before, though that wasn't saying much, so she hoped that the worst was past. "I see that you carry the weapon of an old enemy; I was told of this, and that you travel with that enemy's son." Helena thought she could see Eragon flinch slightly at the mention of said 'enemy' and hoped Hrothgar wouldn't find out the real reason for Eragon's reaction. "It does not please me to see this weapon within my realm." Hrothgar extended his hand. "May I examine it?"

Eragon climbed the dais and presented Za'roc, hilt first. Hrothgar ran his eyes over the blade, turning it in his hands, testing the balance, and tested the point with the palm of his hand. The edge of the blade caught the light, and reflected it back in several moving red lines on the wall. Helena knew that many, including Eragon, had reservations about that blade because of its history, but she couldn't help but find the blade graceful; a lethal kind of grace to be sure, but still worthy of admiration; red was her favorite color, after all. "A masterfully forged blade, as all rider blades are. Elves rarely make swords for themselves – they are usually not a martially inclined race – but when they do, the results are unmatched." He let out a weary breath. "This is an ill-fated weapon; you could fill a river with the innocent blood this blade has spilled." He handed the blade back to Eragon, who hesitated only a moment before taking it back and sheathing it. "Carry and use it if you wish, but take care. Make sure that your will changes that of the blade and not the other way around." Eragon nodded at his words and took his place at Helena's side.

For the first time since this meeting began, Hrothgar's features softened a little and a light entered his eyes. "I understand that you have spent some times in the presence of my nephew, Eragon. Has he proven helpful?"

"Who?"

"Orik, my youngest sister's son. He serves Ajihad as a show of faith on my part to the Varden. In turn, I suspect that Ajihad has made him accompany you as a favor to me. Whether we like it or not, you are important, and having someone I trust be close to you is a boom."

"He's royalty?" Eragon exclaimed.

Hrothgar frowned. "We have no royalty among the knurla. The title of king isn't hereditary."

There was a tense silence until Eragon remembered that he had been asked a question. "I could not have asked for a better guide."

"That is good to hear," Hrothgar said, clearly pleased by the answer. "Unfortunately, I cannot speak with you much longer." Helena tried not to show the relief she felt at those words. "My advisors wait for me, as there are matters I must deal with. The last thing I will say is this: if you want the support of the dwarves, then you must first prove yourself to us with deeds, not words. Our memories are long and we rarely make hasty decisions."

"We will keep it in mind," Eragon said, and bowed again. Helena following his example a moment later; it left a bitter taste in her mouth.

Hrothgar made a magnanimous gesture with his hands. "You may go."

Glad that this was over, Helena turned around and walked out of the room with the rest of her group.

To her annoyance, Orik was waiting for them by the door; Helena wanted to be alone with Eragon so she could speak freely. When they went past the dwarf, he fell into step with them as they made their way back to the central chamber. He looked anxious.

"How did it go? Were you received favorably?" he asked.

"It went fine," Helena said, though she didn't sound convincing, even to her own ears.

"I think your king wanted to get the measure of us," Eragon added. "He is a hard and cautious man, and wanted to give us some advice and truths that we needed, but not necessarily wanted to hear."

"Aye, he does that sometimes. He means well, he does. And he needs to be cautious to survive."

 _'I do not like him,'_ Godric told her privately.

 _'Because he caused me distress?'_ Helena asked.

 _'He was rude to you.'_

 _'But was he wrong?'_

 _'Yes,'_ Godric answered immediately. _'When someone questions your morals and honor, they are always wrong.'_

Helena disagreed with that. _'Right and wrong isn't based on what I think it is.'_

 _'If morality has to be based on anything, your conscience is as good a measure as anything.'_

On the walk back upwards, Helena went over the conversation with Hrothgar in her head and tried to come up with ways to refute the king's words. She pictured herself boldly standing in front of the throne and threatening to walk away from this war unless he apologized; to speak some brilliant rhetorical argument and watch him sputter incoherently. She knew it would never happen but it was a nice fantasy.

When Helena had pictured her meeting with the Varden and their allies, she had envisioned herself taking control and asserting herself in a way she had never done in the past. To make people _listen_ to her from the start. Despite the success in allowing Arya to be her examiner, it hadn't gone at all the way she had hoped it would.

She had thought that her past experiences would give her an advantage, that she had learned, that things would be different but no; she still felt like she was being shuffled along by people that had decades more experience than her.

She already missed the times traveling on the road; first with Brom and Eragon, then with Eragon and Murtagh. It hadn't been easy, but she had felt more like she was in her comfort zone back then, more in control.

Helena felt a calloused hand grab her own and giving it a very soft squeeze. She looked from her seized hand to Eragon, gave him a weak but sincere smile, and squeezed back, a feeling of warmth welling up inside her. Orik eyes fell on them and widened briefly before he smirked. "Guess the twins were right about something, ey?"

"Will this be a problem?" Eragon asked tensely in a way that indicated that there better not be.

"It will be remarked upon," Orik said, still smiling. "Nobody wants either of you to be distracted. But for me? I say take what happiness you can get in these dark times, so long as you stay focused when you need to be and act responsibly. Also, keep in mind that you are both very public figures. Privacy will be hard to come by for you."

Helena didn't like hearing that, but she knew it was true. She was used to people watching her love life – which was non-existent at the time – as if it was their personal soap opera. If you believed everything the Daily Prophet wrote, she had been in an affair with: Lupin, Cedric, Draco, Krum, Fred and George (at the same time) and Ron and Hermione (occasionally also at the same time). She knew that the best thing you could do was to simply ignore it; fighting it just made it worse.

Orik wasn't the only one to notice the change between her and Eragon. Tronjheim wasn't fully populated, but they did encounter a few dwarves here and there. A lot of them started whispering to each other when they saw them. Helena had no doubt that everyone in Tronjheim would know about them by tomorrow at the latest.

Right before they reached the central chamber, Orik pulled them into a side passage, away from prying eyes. "I must ask that you refrain from any more random acts of showing favor whenever possible. The child that you blessed, Eragon, is being hailed as some future hero. She and her guardian have been housed in the finest rooms available. Everyone is talking about your 'miracle'. All the human mothers seem intent on finding either of you so they can get the same for their children."

Eragon groaned.

"That's crazy," Helena complained sourly, "I know the riders were respected but come on!"

"What are we supposed to do?" Eragon asked furtively. "Are we not allowed to be nice to people!"

"Of course you are," Orik said sternly, "but there is a difference between being nice and giving special blessings in the tongue of power and marking them with the symbol of the riders." Helena hadn't heard about that last part. "I suggest you keep out of sight for the time being. Nobody is allowed into the Dragonhold without either Ajihad's or Hrothgar's permission, so you won't be disturbed there."

Eragon looked to her, a clear question in his eyes. She simply shrugged, having no real preference on what to do next. . . except. . . "Has Arya already recovered enough to test our proficiency with magic?" She felt like doing something useful, and the sooner all their business here was done, the sooner they could move on to the elves.

"I don't know. I will ask if she is ready by tomorrow," Orik answered, "though if you want to test your physical proficiency or practice, the training yard is half a mile from Tronjheim to the north."

Helena recalled seeing it this morning when they rose above the city. She was in no mood to be humiliated or condescended to however. "I'd rather not," she said, pursing her lips.

Eragon let his opinion be known. "How about we explore Tronjheim some more? It's such a fantastical place and I doubt we have even seen a fraction of it. After we get some breakfast, of course."

Orik offered to let them visit the library and they accepted. Helena had gotten curious when Nasuada had mentioned that it was one of the greatest one in the world, so she had no objections.

Orik led them to the mess hall that was deep under Tronjheim. The dragons couldn't accompany them through the small tunnels, so they returned to the Dragonhold. Orik said that most people rose early here and had already eaten, so their group had avoided the crowds, though there would inevitably be some people at such a common and public place. He swiftly led them to a table that sat in a shadowed corner so they could hopefully avoid notice.

When Orik left them at the table to get something to eat, Eragon leaned forward towards Helena, who sat opposite him. "What's wrong? Did what Hrothgar said get to you?"

Helena's shoulders slumped. "Perhaps a little," she admitted.

Eragon spoke softly. "You said that you didn't care whether they liked you or not, but that isn't true, is it?"

"I _may_ have exaggerated my ability to not give a shit," she said sheepishly. She could work with allies who didn't like her, but that doesn't mean she wasn't bothered by it.

"They just don't know you yet. Give them time, and they will come to adore you, you'll see."

Helena would like that better, but what she would like even more was being treated like anybody else. Not adored, or hated, or feared; but treated just like another person; given a chance without a bias in either direction. Nasuada and Orik had made a good impression on her for doing exactly that. Hrothgar on the other hand. . . she didn't think there was anything she could have said or done to make him approve of her– or Godric, Saphira and Eragon for that matter. _'Prove yourself with deeds, not words',_ Hrothgar had said. That was good, but she felt this was a 'guilty until proven innocent' kind of situation, which was a real downer. Thinking of 'guilty until proven innocent', made her think of Murtagh which soured her mood even further.

Helena searched for some topic of conversation. "So what did Angela have to say to you? And what did Orik mean by _'marking'_ them with the symbol of the riders?"

"That was Saphira's doing. She touched the girl's brow and the gedwëy ignasia appeared."

Helena groaned. "She shouldn't have done that. She did the child no favors, I assure you. Most people say they want to be special, but they don't know what they are talking about. Most don't want to be special; they want to _belong_. They want to be special, while at the same time belonging, which isn't easy. You and I at least have each other and our dragons." She was sure that if it wasn't for Godric, she would be unbearably lonely in this world; everybody was just so different from what she was used to. Eragon used to be different too, still was, but they had come to understand each other over months of travel.

"She meant well," Eragon protested.

"I know. I guess we will see what comes of it. Who knows? Perhaps it will help."

"As for Angela," Eragon began again, "she is hiding from the Twins."

"Oh I knew that already. I met her yesterday myself. She invited herself when Nasuada and I were bathing." Technically, Angela had been there first, but Helena didn't believe her being there was a coincidence. Angela had claimed to have some skill with divination and Helena was beginning to believe her.

Helena saw Eragon's eyes glaze over when she mentioned bathing. "What are you thinking?" Helena asked lightly.

"Nothing," Eragon said, too fast to be believed.

Helena made a skeptical but amused 'uhuh' sound.

"She also explained that Shades were sorcerers who have been possessed by dark spirits," he added hastily, obviously eager to move the conversation along.

Brom had never gone into detail about what a Shade was, only what to do in case they encountered one (run away). Eragon's explanation – and her memories of the minds she encountered within the Shade – started to give Helena an idea.

At that point, Orik returned, bringing with him bowls of gruel that looked a little like rice pudding, but lacked any flavor. This, she suspected, was what the ordinary person in Tronjheim ate every day.

Once they were done, Orik guided them back up towards Tronjheim proper, entering a wing of the stone city that they had never visited before, arriving at a carved archway that was made out of wood – a rarity in Tronjheim – that led to the library.

Eragon and Helena both felt a sense of wonder when they stepped through the arch and saw the vastness of the room; the library had to take up nearly a quarter of Tronjheim's bottom floor. It dwarfed the Hogwarts library by a significant margin.

The bookcases were made of black marble – in contrast to its white variant that was prevalent in Tronjheim – and were five stories high. Four walkways ran along the length of the bookcases and were accessible via three spiral staircases. Placed at regular intervals around the walls were pairs of stone benches and small tables, both build seamlessly into the ground.

"In here you will find the legacy of our race," Orik said with a puffed up chest as he came to stand in front of them. "In all of Tronjheim, the contents of this room is the most valuable; arguably even more so then the star sapphire, Isidar Mithrim. The writings of our greatest kings and scholars is stored here, collected over thousands of years. Admittedly, it isn't just all our work though, there are copies of human works as well. Yours is a short-lived—but prolific—race. We have little or nothing of the elves. They guard their secrets jealously."

"How old can dwarves become?" Eragon asked. "I know that elves are immortal, but I don't know anything about the dwarves."

"We can become over three-hundredth years old," Orik answered. "I myself am eighty-nine, and I am considered to be in the prime of my life. Hrothgar celebrated his two-hundred-eighty-seventh birthday a mere two weeks ago and is still exceptionally strong for his age."

Helena was impressed by that number. "Where I come from, humans–" and by that she meant wizards and witches, "–lived around hundredth years and up to one hundredth and fifty years if they are lucky."

"That is almost double from what we have here." Eragon sounded conflicted.

"Are they that different from the humans who live here?" Orik asked curiously.

"The ones I speak of all have magic. I think that has something to do with it," she said. That and a more healthy life style and medicine for the muggles, but that still wasn't as good as magic.

Orik perked up. "Do you think we could recruit them as allies?"

"Unlikely," was all she said.

"A pity. Do you want me to stay here with you in case you have any questions?"

"I think we can find our own way back," Eragon said. It was a clear dismissal and Orik left them alone, telling them that he would be nearby in the library if they needed him.

As soon as Orik was out of sight, Eragon moved closer to her and swung his arms around Helena's midriff, pressing her closer to him. Suddenly all her worries seemed less important and the future more hopeful, and she leaned into him. A silent contented sigh escaped her. She was really starting to see appeal of this.

He looked down at her. "Is there anything specific you wanted to look up?" Eragon asked.

"Hmm, perhaps a general timeline of important events? I am curious to know how far back their records go. Also, an introduction on dwarven laws and customs." She had never had any interest in law and such, relying purely on her gut feeling to distinguish right from wrong. She still did and still didn't care to be honest, but after their talk with Hrothgar, Helena thought it prudent to have at least a passing familiarity with the subject.

If she was going to break traditions, she at least wanted to do it on purpose.

Eragon looked around at the countless books and scrolls around them and laughed nervously. "Perhaps I should have asked for a map before sending Orik away."

"He was a third wheel," Helena smirked.

Eragon looked confused. "Third wheel?"

Helena groaned. "fifth wheel?" she tried.

"I think I get what you mean," Eragon said with a smile before sighing. "Well, nothing for it I guess," he mumbled, looking at the nearest bookshelf.

They could probably have covered more ground if they split up, but neither of them wanted to bring up that possibility. Besides, even looking at the titles of the books gave them some idea about all the knowledge and art that was stored here. Fortunately, all the books were sorted by subject matter instead of by author or alphabetically or something equally asinine.

They found a book on broad history within ten minutes of searching. Much of the ancient history was mired in religious doctrine and myth. According to the author – who was a dwarf of course – the dwarves were created by Helzvog in a manner very similar to the Adam and Eve story from the Bible, minus the monotheism. The other deities then proceeded to create the other races in a sort of divine one-upmanship contest. There was no mention of Urgals however.

"There is one thing that I really don't understand about all this," Helena said as they were both looking at the same book, Eragon looking over her shoulder.

"Just one?" he said dryly.

She ignored him. "The book claims that all this creation stuff happened around eight thousand years ago, yet, according to a book I read in Jeod's library, humans only appeared in Alagaësia two thousand and four hundred years ago. How could they have come up with a creation story for a race that they didn't know existed at the time?"

"We could always ask Orik," Eragon suggested. "Do you believe this?" He motioned towards the book.

"I don't want to dismiss anything, but it happened so long ago that it is likely impossible to tell. For now, I am taking it all with a grain of salt." According to the book, dwarves were first created over eight thousand years ago, which in their calendar is called the year 0 AC (after creation). Helena was very curious if any written records existed from so long ago.

The book may not have given any certainty of what happened so long, but it had given them an idea about what the dwarves _believed_ happened so long ago, which could be just as important.

The books spoke of many other myths and legends, but Helena didn't think they would have time to go over it all. This was a history going back eight thousand years; the early records were vague and suspect, but that they had anything at all was remarkable. She didn't know how far back the earliest human writing went in her world, but she suspected it wasn't anywhere near as long.

Trying to learn dwarven history in one afternoon was like trying to learn economics in one afternoon. It just wasn't going to happen; there was simply too much of it. She feared the same would be true for dwarven laws and customs.

"How did your people handle justice," Helena asked.

"When one person commits a wrong, either he or his kin needs to pay reparations. If they don't, then the one who was wronged seeks satisfaction himself in some way."

 _Vigilante justice,_ Helena thought. "And when one side thinks that this 'satisfaction' was way too much, what then?"

Eragon grimaced. "That is known as a Blood Feud. A horrible affair that can last for generations. Most of the time all parties try to come to some agreement before it gets that bad. Sometimes a neutral party – a respected elder or the like – is called in to arbitrate the dispute."

"So a person's family shares some of the blame in case of a crime?"

"They can. There was a reason why I reacted poorly to Murtagh. Most of the time, however, an accused will go to great lengths to avoid having their family suffer on their behalf and will take all of the responsibility unto himself."

"And that system works?" it sounded really archaic to her.

Eragon shrugged, "I don't recall there ever really being a problem with it. Most of the stories of blood feuds came from other villages or tales of the distant past. Carvahall is a quiet village; not a whole lot ever happens there."

Helena quirked an eyebrow, and Eragon quickly realized the irony in that statement and chuckled ruefully. "Besides dragon eggs appearing out of nowhere, the Ra'zac, and retired riders I mean. Other than those minor issues, it is perfectly normal village. How do they handle it where you are from?"

"For such a comparatively small population, we had a _HUGE_ government. More than half our population was employed that way. The DMLE – the department of magical law enforcement – handles small offences. A council made up of all the most important wizards and witches called with the Wizengamot rules on larger matters, as they did during my trial."

"That all sounds very impersonal too me," Eragon mumbled. "And more than half your people were part of the government?" he repeated, a note of disbelief in his voice.

"Because of our magic, food and shelter were easy and cheap to come by. Besides education, sports, selling and making what you would consider luxury goods, and other odd jobs; what else would we spent time on?"

"Sounds like paradise to me," Eragon mused.

Helena gave a wicked smile. "Until you consider that wizards and witches with too much time on their hands get up to all kinds of mischief to amuse themselves. For such a small population, the DMLE is kept surprisingly buzzy."

Suddenly, Eragon grew tense; he was looking over her shoulder. Helena turned around and saw the twins approaching their table. The way they walked shoulder to shoulder and in perfect unison was impressive. It reminded her of another – more pleasant – pair of twins. . . or what used to be a pair of twins. Thinking of Fred Weasley caused her to flinch due to the old and familiar guilt. She tried to ignore it and focus on the matter at hand.

They stopped about two yards from their table. They both bowed smoothly, though Helena thought it was a little too deep and elaborate to be genuine; almost like what Murtagh did with Nasuada. Neither of them took their eyes of either Helena or Eragon, even while bowing. Helena couldn't read anything from their blank expressions and it reminded her again of Snape.

"We have been looking for you both," one of them said; it was impossible to tell them apart so she didn't know who was the one that had caused Eragon such distress when he was tested and so who she should dislike more.

Helena and Eragon shared a glance, and Helena contacted Godric. Even if he wasn't here physically, his support might be helpful and he would no doubt want to be informed. She suspected Eragon did the same with Saphira.

"What for?" Eragon asked; Helena could tell he felt uneasy.

"We both did our duty," the other twin said. "We will not apologize for that. But we might have handled it better. For that, we apologize." The words were so even and polite that Helena guessed they must have been rehearsed. "We have come to pay homage to you."

Helena thought for a moment about apologizing for punching one of them but thought better of it; she wasn't really sorry about that. "You don't need to do that," Helena said instead. The Twins clearly didn't like them and the feeling was mutual so she saw no reason to pretend otherwise.

The twins seemed to find her words amusing. "Oh, on the contrary my dear," Helena bristled a little at the false endearment, "your importance entitles you to such courtesies. Do not lie to yourself and pretend otherwise. Know what you are due, and demand no less."

"Whatever we may or may not do in the future is just that: in the future," she argued. "We haven't done anything yet to deserve such honor – besides saving Arya of course – I won't ask for something that we haven't earned yet, and truthfully, not even then." _Respect and love is given, not demanded._ She found it somewhat ironic that she was now echoing Hrothgar's words that they needed to prove themselves before being respected.

"Such humility," the other twin said – they seemed to switch every time they spoke – and this time there was no mistaking the mocking tone in it.

"Why are you here?" Eragon asked again, more forcefully this time.

The speaking twin's voice became more respectful. "I confess, there was another reason we sought you out. As you may or may not be aware, nearly all the magic users who oppose Galbatorix have come together in a guild for mutual protection and opportunity. We call ourselves Du Vrangr Gata, or the wondering path as it is known in the common tongue."

"We have heard of you," Helena said. Well, she had at any rate; she didn't know if Eragon already knew.

"That makes things easier," one of the twins said, smoothly. "Du Vrangr Gata has heard of your mighty feats – not everyone can survive an encounter with a Shade and even fewer succeed in destroying their physical body, even temporarily. We have come to extend an invitation of membership. We would be honored to have someone of your stations as members. And we suspect that we might be able to help you as well." Helena wondered if that last 'we' referred to Du Vrangr Gata as whole or just the Twins.

"How?" Eragon demanded. "What would membership entail?" Helena asked immediately afterwards.

The corners of the twin's lips were twitching in as close approximation of a real smile she had ever seen on either of them. "Du Vrangr Gata is as much a guild as it is a political entity. The Varden is not a single united group, but instead a coalition of all the different human interest groups that oppose Galbatorix. As a result, it is hardly united. Du Vrangr Gata are all the magicians who have united together to protect their interests, and maybe your interests as well in the future. People either fear _our_ magic or are jealous of it. If you spent many years amongst the common folk with your powers revealed, you will know my words to be true. Not many will be able to understand the gift you have and the responsibilities and dangers that come with it. We of Du Vrangr Gate will be one of the few who do."

"I doubt we will have time to get involved in minor politics, even if we were interested," Helena said skeptically.

"You would not have to _do_ anything; the prestige of just having you be a member would go a long way, but, and more importantly, it will allow you to trade ideas and knowledge with other spell-casters. The two of us have garnered much experience in magical matters. We could guide you . . . show you spells we've discovered and teach you words of power. In return, you would share some your knowledge with us."

Eragon seemed to lose patience. "Do you take us for fools?" he demanded harshly. "We won't apprentice ourselves to you so you can learn the words Brom taught us! It must have angered you when you couldn't steal them from my mind."

The twins faces flushed with anger but Helena spoke up before they could say anything. "More importantly, are the two of you not the leaders of Du Vrangr Gate? By joining your group, we would be placing ourselves under your authority. I am sure you can see why that isn't possible."

"We are not fools," one of the twins spat, still looking angry. "We know having either of you beholden to us is unrealistic. This was meant as legitimate offer of assistance to mutual benefit, nothing more."

"And we will consider the offer carefully. Thank you." With that, Helena hoped to end the argument.

"We will look forward to receiving your answer soon. If either of you –" He looked shrewdly from Helena to Eragon; they seemed to have picked up on the fact that one was more against the idea than the other. "Has any questions, feel free to ask them. We are not difficult to find."

With that, the two magicians turned around and glided deeper into the library.

Eragon turned to her as soon as they were out of eyeshot. He didn't look pleased. "You can't honestly think about joining them."

"Du Vrangr Gata is more than just the twins. If we have an opportunity to strengthen the magicians of the Varden, we should take it."

"Ajihad asked us to remain as apolitical as possible," Eragon reminded her.

"I don't see it like that. I would just be improving the effectiveness of one of our war assets."

"Brom said the Riders of old kept knowledge of the Ancient Language to themselves. They must have had a reason. I don't think Brom would approve of this."

"Whatever the Riders of old may or may not have done isn't important. We should do what we think is right."

Eragon still looked uncertain but didn't press her further.

Godric gave his opinion. _'I agree with Eragon. The less you associate with the twins and their subordinates, the better.'_

Helena's first impulse was to argue, but Godric and she had only recently reconciled, and she didn't want to risk it. _'I doubt we will have time for anything before we go to the elves, so it doesn't matter.'_

 _'So you will turn them down?'_ he pressed.

 _'Fine. Yes. I will turn them down.'_

They turned back towards their books, but not for long.

"I think we can learn a lot more about the dwarves by simply asking Orik, than browsing these dusty old tomes," Eragon said with exasperation.

"Perhaps," Helena reluctantly admitted. She was used to finding answers in a library. The Hogwarts library was a lot more structured and smaller so it was easier to find answers. What they were doing now was like searching for a needle in a haystack. Also, she didn't have Hermione with her now; that also might have something to do with their lack of success.

They found Orik in another part of the library, reading a book whose letters were so elaborately illustrated that she could barely decipher them.

When they asked him how the relatively new race of humans fit into the much older dwarven religion, he laughed.

"Just because we didn't know that Sindri created a race of her own doesn't meant that it didn't happen. Before your kind arrived on these shores, we thought that Sindri had abstained from creation like Kílf did. Perhaps we will one day discover a race of fishlike people and learn that we were wrong about that as well."

Helena wondered how he would react if she told him about Merpeople, but decided against it. "How about other races, like Urgals and Werecats? How do they fit into this?"

Orik face contorted in distaste, "The Urgals are barely more than animals and no god of ours was responsible for their creation. I suspect that Werecats and Urgals were created by their own lesser gods."

Helena found it surprising that dwarves were willing to acknowledge that their gods weren't the only one around. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that they had a polytheistic religion and that none of their gods were completely omnipotent? Though that was tautology in and of itself; there couldn't be more than one all-powerful being in existence.

When they asked Orik about how dwarven laws and customs worked he grew thoughtful, stroking his beard as he thought of a response.

"I don't think I can explain our culture in a single conversation; you learn better by simple exposure rather than a dry lecture. That you try to learn at all does you credit, however, and I will make sure Hrothgar hears of it. Our laws are, by and large, similar to how you humans do it; a lot of humans have taking much of our customs for themselves over the years. You'll be fine."

Helena frowned. Orik saying that dwarven laws were similar to human laws told her absolutely nothing. Back home, so called 'human laws' have changed, and are still changing, all the time in almost every country.

One of the things she had learned about the history of Alagaësia was that humans had only been around for less than eight hundred years. Most didn't count the small boat of explorers that arrived over two thousand years ago and didn't stick around for long enough to do anything more than say; 'Hey! We exist!'. The fact that the permanent settlement of humans in Alagaësia indicated the end of the so called 'golden age' should tell you all you need to know about how some people viewed that event. As a result of their short history, it was a lot easier to make generalizations about humans. Until Galbatorix's rebellion, there really wasn't a lot of diversity in cultures – besides a few tribes that lived in the desert and the occasional isolated village.

"I would like to visit Murtagh. Can you take us to him?" Eragon asked Orik.

Helena wasn't surprised; Eragon had always been closer to Murtagh than she had been.

"I think that would be alright," Orik muttered under his beard, fingering his beard again. "Follow me."

They once again made their way further underground and Helena already dreaded it when they would have to climb all the way back upwards. She didn't want to risk apparating just because she was lazy. Eragon had said it was okay if she didn't want to come along, but she thought this was important.

After so many twists and turns that she wondered if Orik was deliberately making it hard for them to ever find their way here on their own, they eventually found their way to a metal cell door guarded by a man and a dwarf.

Helena tried to engrave the place into her mind in case she ever needed to apparate here.

When they requested entry the dwarf shrugged and said, "You can go in, but there is someo–"

The metal door opened and Nasuada stepped through the door. She had one hand holding her chin in a thoughtful pose. When her eyes fell on Helena and her group, she froze briefly before giving them a smile. "Did you come to visit?"

Through the still open doorframe they could see Murtagh greeting them with a grin. "Miss me already did ye? Come and join me in my humble abode!"

 _Well he seems to be in a good mood,_ Helena though. She adopted a teasing smile and addressed Nasuada. "I thought you said you were going to be too busy to follow me around, but not busy enough to stop you from visiting our resident bad boy I see."

"It's not like that!" Nasuada snapped.

"Yet!" Murtagh yelled cheerfully.

The two guards and Orik were looking incredibly awkward.

"Perhaps we should move this inside," Eragon said with an overdone sense of serenity.

"No," Nasuada yelped quickly, before taking a deep breath. "I was just trying to see if the Varden could find an ally in Murtagh. There might be other ways for him to prove himself besides mental testing, though I am beginning to think he might not be worth the trouble."

"I might be beginning to see a few reasons to stay," Murtagh said, still with a devil-may-care smile on his face.

"I am leaving now," Nasuada said dryly, and with a sense of dignity that bordered on pretentiousness, walked away.

Eragon and Helena shared an amused glance before entering Murtagh's cell, closing the door behind them.

While it wasn't as splendid looking as their first cell in Tronjheim, it still looked quite nice, if smaller.

Helena wondered if Ajihad was still doing this to keep Helena and Eragon happy or if this was simply kindness for its own sake.

"Trying to seduce the leader's daughter huh?" Eragon grinned ruefully, "That is one way to ingratiate yourself with the Varden, though I am sure there must be some safer ways. Like killing a Shade or something."

Murtagh snorted. "Don't look too much into it. I am just playing around; that girl is too smart to be taken in by sweet words and her father would no doubt kill me for it."

"Then why do it?" Helena asked, frowning. Was he just playing around with someone's heart?

"Nasuada is interesting and has a quick wit. The verbal spars with her remind me of home."

"I thought you hated it there?" Eragon wondered.

"It was still home," Murtagh retorted.

"Nasuada said she was trying to find a way for you to prove yourself without mental testing." Helena said.

"So she did," Murtagh confirmed.

"And?" Helena prodded impatiently. "Would you take her up on such an offer?"

Murtagh shrugged. "Depends on the offer. Remember, I never wanted to spend my life fighting the empire. I am here because. . ." he trailed of. "Remind me again why I am here, please, I seem to have forgotten."

Helena felt her blood rise to her cheeks. He was here because she had wanted him to be here, but she wasn't going to come out and say that.

Eragon answered. "You are here, because you chose to follow us, even knowing the welcome you might receive."

Murtagh froze momentarily. "Bah!" he cursed. "Why are you here?" he demanded.

"Because Eragon suggested we come and see you," Helena answered.

Murtagh breathed in deeply through his nose. "I am sorry." He sounded sincere. "You are just being. . . yourself." He shook his head and looked at them more closely, before grinning again. "Did something happen?" his sly tone making it clear what he was referring to.

Helena felt defensive. "What do you mean?" They hadn't been acting all lovey-dovey when they came in. Had the rumors already reached this far?

"I don't think someone would notice it unless they had spent a significant amount of time around you both, but you are standing closer together than before. Whatever tension that existed between you before is gone now."

 _Are we that easy to read?_ Helena wondered. She looked at Eragon and noticed that they indeed stood very close to each other. She hadn't even noticed.

"That is none of your business," Eragon said tensely. Helena felt grateful that Eragon wanted to change the subject; talking about this was embarrassing; all the more so because she was sure Murtagh would tease them for it.

"Fair enough. All I will say is that it was about time. So how have the Varden been responding to your presence."

They gave Murtagh a summary of all that occurred since they left him. He seemed unsurprised by most of it and gave a sardonic smile when they mentioned how Ajihad had pushed them into giving a speech.

"How long do you think you will remain here before heading to the elves?" Murtagh asked when they were done.

"Not long if Ajihad has his way," Eragon answered. "Do you want us to ask if you can come along?"

"If you ask them, then the answer will be no. The memories of the elves are even longer than that of the humans or dwarves. Besides, they will see me as someone who will distract you from more important matters."

"What if were to ask _really_ nicely?" Helena pressed. "Arya did say that she owed us. Would you want to come if possible?"

Murtagh made a pained expression. "The elven realm is supposed to be a magical place but. . . I don't know guys. I just don't know."

* * *

AN: I am afraid I haven't gotten much writing done in the last two weeks. Only about 7k words in two weeks, which is small if you consider the amount of free time I had these last two weeks. This is largely to blame to my impulse to try a second playthrough of Skyrim. That game sucks up time the same way that. . . sorry, to late in the night for me to think of a proper analogy but you get the idea. I hope I can still keep up the regular updates up for 2 more chapters but I am not promising anything.

Recommendation for this chapter: Heirs of Honor by Dark Seroph. It is a Dragon Age fanfic that takes place during the event of the first game, but doesn't actually follow the story of the warden, instead focusing on a few other origin characters (city elf/circle mage/human noble) as they go off and do their own thing. It is an older story that is already completed so you don't need to wait for updates or worry about the story getting dropped halfway.


	20. Testing

**Special thanks to my beta CerealReader who has to put up with my 1st grade English and typo's.  
Also a thank you to my sister for creating a cover image on my request. Because of a lack of communication error it didn't come out exactly as I wanted it too (the hair and eye colors were wrong among other things, hence the black and white image) but it still took some time to make so she has my gratitude.**

* * *

Helena and Eragon had decided that they were going to test their magical and physical skills the next day.

Helena insisted that Eragon spar with her before going to bed and directly after waking up, while Eragon also spend a great deal of time going over all the words of the Ancient Language that he knew and their applications.

Really, it was like she was back in school and she was cramming for a test she had failed to study for beforehand.

"Helena, please give yourself a break; if you keep this up you will be too tired to do anything later."

"But I suck!" Helena wined, her breath was labored and she was using her staff as a crutch as sweat rolled down her face. Eragon, of course, was barely breathing hard. It was made worse by the fact that Helena knew Eragon was holding back on her behalf.

"You are getting better," Eragon insisted. Helena didn't hear a denial of the 'I suck' statement in those words. "Besides, your magic is so easy and risk-free that you shouldn't even need to get in close."

 _'If you are fighting an opponent in close quarters, you have already made a mistake,'_ Godric commented. Helena agreed with that advice but it was more the thought of disappointing anyone today that bothered her rather than any practical consideration. She didn't want to embarrass herself.

On a completely unrelated note: Eragon had used his magic to shave himself this morning.

Once the day had well and truly started and after their last minute revisions, Orik took them down to have breakfast in a private room so as to avoid a scene – by which he meant any scenario that involves them and more than ten unknown people. The dragons wouldn't accompany them for that very same reason, instead landing on the ground outside Tronjheim were Orik said a meal had been prepared for them. Once Helena and Eragon were fed, he could take them to Arya if they were ready.

"She if fully recovered then?" Eragon asked.

"I don't know about that," Orik said skeptically, "you don't recover from an ordeal such as Arya has experienced in three days, elf or no, but she herself insisted that she was strong enough for this."

Since Helena would end up needing it today anyway, she decided to use her staff as an impromptu walking stick. Normally she just carried the staff around as a shrunken little twig in her pocket. She decided she liked doing it this way better, with the staff thudding on the ground announcing her arrival; it made her feel like one of those sorceresses of old. Before the wand was invented, witches and witches used staffs instead. There was nothing that a staff could do that the much handier wand couldn't, so it had swiftly gone out of style once the wand was invented, but there was no denying it felt more awesome.

They swiftly arrived at the same room where they had found Arya two days ago when Helena needed to be prove her intentions.

Orik knocked three times on the door.

"You may come in," a familiar musical voice called from behind the door.

They found Arya already standing up and ready to head out. Unlike last time, she was dressed in an austere looking black tunic tinted with green. Her long hair was held back with a brown headband like an athlete. The same simple blade that she had last time hung from her hip.

She did not waste any time with introductions and immediately got to the point. "Since you asked for me specifically so as to avoid advertising your abilities, I suggest we first go somewhere more private."

"I am staying," Orik insisted. "Both Ajihad and Hrothgar must have some idea of their abilities."

"I agree," Arya said, and echoed Orik's words. "Both Ajihad and Hrothgar must have some idea of your abilities. Considering the stakes, both dwarves and men should be allowed to have a witness. We are lucky that because of his dual position, Orik can serve for both."

"I don't mind," Eragon said, "I trust Orik."

Helena simply shrugged.

"You can trust any dwarf," Orik protested, "at least when it comes to this. None of us would ever willingly serve Galbatorix."

"Many would say the same of the Varden," Arya said lightly, "but let us not dwell on such things."

Orik led them on a long walk away from Tronjheim and over the large plain that surrounded it, and from there through a similarly large tunnel as the one they first entered _Farthen Dûr_ with, more than large enough for the dragons who joined them once they were outside. They naturally attracted a lot of attention – Arya almost as much as the dragons – but Orik and Arya urged them to ignore it besides raising a hand in greeting and a 'well met!' here and there.

As they walked, Helena couldn't help but notice how Arya – even while doing something as simple as walking – possessed a grace to her that she had never seen before.

The room they arrived at after some miles was almost identical to the one were one of the twins had ravaged Eragon's mind and tried to do the same to her, beside the floor which consisted of dark grey dirt instead of stone.

"I think it best if we start with your magical proficiency," Arya said, "it is safer to do that when you are fully rested and at your best. You are unlikely to kill yourself by sparring too hard. First, do both of you consider yourself proficient? I want no humility or bragging, just honesty."

"Brom has taught me enough about the Ancient language to make myself understood, though I don't claim to speak it fluently yet," Eragon answered, "he has also explained the do's and don'ts of magic, though the focus was rarely on duels with other spell casters. He explained why it was dangerous and he always told me to flee if possible."

"A good rule, but I doubt you will be able to avoid such a fight for long," Arya commented.

"Brom explained what wards are, but he never told me any specific spells. So I improvised; I fear that I might have made some mistakes doing so."

Helena looked at Eragon sharply "You have wards?" she blurted out, "When?"

"Not long after our escape from Gil'ead. I also casted some on you when you were asleep."

Helena was somewhat disgruntled that she never noticed that Eragon casted any sort of magic on her. She was normally able to sense when magic was about. She guessed it was like a smell; if you get used to it you stop noticing it. If Eragon casted it when she was asleep she must have acclimated to the new feeling. "You should have told me."

"I feared you would object," Eragon defended, "Brom said that wards were at least as dangerous as any other kind of magic and more than some. I feared you wouldn't allow me to endanger myself on your behalf."

"Still should have told me," Helena murmured.

"She speaks true," Arya chided, her eyes were narrowed and she stroked the bottom of her lip with her fingers thoughtfully. "It is dangerous to cast magic like that on another magician without their consent and knowledge, not to mention extremely rude."

Eragon had the decency to look contrite.

"Tell me about the wording of these defense spells," Arya commanded.

Eragon did so. Helena understood some words like blöthr (meaning stop) or haina (meaning harm). Helena now started to question if it hadn't been Eragon's ward instead of her own powers that stopped the slaver's arrow from killing her.

"Too broad," Arya said, frowning, "you were lucky your spell didn't activate whenever she flew on Godric by trying to stop the wind blowing in her face. You must be more specific. More importantly, Helena should cast her own wards on herself. Right now, it would draw on your powers alone; a draw that will increase with distance. If Helena were to get attacked while you are miles away, you could die instantly. Remove it."

Eragon spoke some words and Helena could immediately feel a difference. Like walking out into the open air after being cooped up in your room for too long. She wondered how she could ever have missed it.

"I suppose we should be grateful you even _could_ remove the spell. If you had made a mistake, it could very easily have been a permanent enchantment. Until you complete your training in Ellesméra, it would be best if you check with me before trying something like that again."

"Yes. . ." Eragon trailed off, apparently not sure how he was supposed to address her, "Ma'am?"

Arya stern features softened minutely. "Please just call me Arya. I think you earned that right by saving my life."

"Arya then," Eragon smiled.

Helena felt a spike of annoyance, and identified the feeling. _Ah yes, jealousy, should have guessed I was going to run into this problem._ She knew it was unreasonable to get angry every time Eragon acted mildly pleasant to a woman that wasn't her, but the heart rarely gave two shits about reasons.

"Can you teach us to cast better wards then," Eragon asked.

"I could, but someone else is better fit to teach you back in Ellesméra and it is not my place. There is no hurry. We are relatively safe here for now and we will soon leave for Du Weldenvarden where we will be even safer and you can continue your training. "

Eragon looked disappointed. "How soon?"

"I hope to leave at dawn two days from now."

"So soon!" Eragon exclaimed. Helena was surprised too though she didn't say anything yet. "We only arrived three days ago."

Arya raised one perfect eyebrow. "The sooner the better. Is there a problem?"

"I suppose not," Helena conceded, but it would mean that the Murtagh situation had just become a lot more urgent.

Arya looked at Eragon disapprovingly. "Also, you shouldn't try to coddle your fellow rider just because she is a woman. I know she can use magic, so she is capable of making her own wards. That is much more energy efficient."

"Actually. . ." Helena laughed nervously, "I can't."

Arya looked sharply at her, seeming incredulous. "I have seen you use some advanced magic in your memories. You were even able to counter the Shade's magic."

Helena shot a quick glance at Orik. _Oh, well, can't be helped._ "Magic isn't always the same everywhere. Don't assume anything; the normal rules don't necessarily apply to me."

Arya seemed to catch her meaning. "I see. Then it might be best if you just tell and show what you can do later, instead of me asking questions on faulty assumptions." She turned back to Eragon. "But first we should continue with you."

"What do you need me to do?" Eragon asked.

Arya took a few steps and then picked up a small rock from the ground.

"First, speed. I will throw this and you will try to stop and make it float midair before it touches the ground."

Eragon looked at his hand with his gedwëy ignasia, took a few steps back, and then looked hard at Arya. "I am ready."

Arya acknowledged Eragon with a nod, "Do not grasp for the power until I release the stone. I want to see how fast you can reach for your magic." and then. . . she did nothing.

The seconds trickled by and Helena looked from Arya to Eragon who still looked fixated on the rock in Arya's hands. _She is trying to test his focus as well as his reaction time._

Without any warning of readying her body, Arya's hand shot forward and released the rock, sending it flying in a surprisingly slow arc through the air.

"Stenr Reisa!"The stone halted moments before it touched the ground. Eragon looked nervously to Arya for a sign of how well he did.

"Adequate, but you can still improve."

Arya had Eragon perform several more tasks with ever increasing complexity. First from moving things around in the air in specific patterns, to conjuring and manipulating things like light, heat, sound, and smells to casting curses on little pebbles that only activate once curtain conditions are met. Eragon did start to have problems with the latter.

With some of the more costly spells Arya asked for, Eragon simply had to state the wording of the spell he would use, but he wasn't actually required to cast anything. _Probably so he can save his energy,_ Helena reasoned.

At the end she said, "You still have much to learn, but for only ever having started your training few months ago, you are remarkably advanced."

Eragon nodded while trying and failing not to smile.

"Now what can you do?" Arya asked Helena.

"My magic is different," Helena repeated, "I can't use the Ancient Language at all. I can't reach this well of power that is tied to your life energy like all other magicians. Yet I can still do magic. Brom and I hypothesized that I use magic in the same way a dragon does, though unlike a dragon, I can use it at will."

"Interesting," was all Arya said and Helena could read nothing of her inner thoughts on her face.

"It is a common ability where I am from."

"And what can you do with it?"

"I can conjure fire and ice, wind and water. I change things into other things. I can change the properties of objects. On a fundamental level, I use mage to alter the fabric of reality to my will."

Helena briefly changed into husky as a demonstration.

Arya frowned, "It is not unusual for my people to change their appearance into that of an animal, though not as smoothly or easily. However, I still don't have a good idea of what you can do."

Helena though for a long moment about what Arya needed to know. "I have a number of spells that each cause a different effect. If I don't have a spell to make the change I want, I am out of luck. I can use pure will and intent if the situation is desperate enough, but I don't think that is safe to rely on."

"It isn't," Arya said, causing Helena's eyes to widen briefly. "It isn't impossible for our magicians to use magic without the framework of the Ancient Language, but it is incredibly dangerous and volatile." She gave a very stern look at Eragon and Helena. "And neither you should never attempt it unless there is absolutely no other way to save yourself."

While Helena was surprised that others could use what she called the more 'freestyle magic'. She decided to continue her explanation with the most important difference. "I can't cast permanent wards on myself, but on the up side, my magic doesn't draw on a finite pool of power."

"I saw you fight of the Shade's magic. Your memories of the event were confusing to me. I assumed you had simply used an opposite spell to counter the sleep spell, causing a direct confrontation between your two energy pools, with yours being larger."

"In a way, that is what happened," Helena said, "except my energy pool is infinite, though it requires more mental focus. If Durza had casted an addition spell to slow me down or distract me, he would have won."

"Without knowing more about your powers, Durza probably assumed that if he tried that, it would simply be another drain on his resources, hastening his defeat."

Helena had assumed much the same. She was, however, surprised at how fast this Arya seemed willing to except her word on all this.

"Your magic truly has no endurance limit?" Arya asked pointedly.

"Not as far as I know." Helena affirmed.

A sharp smile appeared on Arya's face. "Then even if you never learn the ability to cast wards, I think it will be a large advantage. It would allow you to keep hammering away at an opponent's wards without fear of exhausting yourself."

"It would taunt my opponent into responding with magic of his own, something that I have no defense against," Helena reminded her. That was why Brom had warned her not to do exactly what Arya was suggesting.

"True, and you will have to stay close to another magician so he or she can protect you, but it is still an advantage. I can see why you wanted it to remain a secret," Arya complemented before shooting a pointed look at Orik.

"Ajihad and Hrothgar will see the need for secrecy," Orik assured them.

Arya then proceeded to give Helena a similar number and kind of tests that she had given Eragon. The diminutive witch was able to complete the vast majority of them until Arya started to get really specific and asked her to cast conditional cursus and charms that only activated on certain conditions or spells that only activated after a certain time.

"Do you have anything to add that we should know," Arya asked her.

Helena considered the question for a long moment until she realized that she had waited too long and that Arya and Orik would assume she was hiding something if she didn't give them anything. "I can instantly transport myself in space so long as I remain within a few miles of Godric." She still felt that range was still increasing every week.

Helena decided to demonstrate by preparing to _apparate_ to the other side of the room next to Godric. After a few moments of concentrating she vanished with the familiar bang.

For the first time Helena thought she had managed to surprise Arya so she decided to clarify before she could get her hopes up. "It takes a few seconds of focus and Durza has proven it is possible to take away this ability."

"Ah, pity," Arya sighed, "can you give us another demonstration of something that you can do, but would be very hard without your powers?"

Helena thought about it for a moment and then reached into her bag and took out her flute. "My bag can hold a normally impossible amount of content, for one." She levitated her flute a few feet in front of her and then whispered, "Lusicorum," And the flute started playing a simple tune on its own.

Arya ignored the self-playing flute at first, focusing instead on what she viewed as the most useful magic she had just seen. "Can you make more of those bags with supernatural carrying capacities? It would be a great logistical aid for the Varden if you can gift them even a small number of them."

"I am not good enough for that," Helena mumbled, lowering her head slightly.

"It did sound a little too good to be true," Arya grunted. "May I?" she asked curiously as she stretched out a hand towards the flying instrument. Helena levitated it into the elf's waiting palm and stopped the levitation. Arya turned the flute around in her hands and examined it from all sides while the flute just kept playing. She held a finger a few inches over one of the finger holes. "Is your magic blocking the finger holes to mimic a musicians skill to get the tunes it needs?"

Helena shrugged.

Arya blocked the mouthpiece with one hand and then blocked all of the finger holes with the other. The flute continued to produce music _somehow_. Arya looked incredulous. "How?"

"It's magic," Helena said in wry amusement, "it supersedes the normal rules of common sense."

"So, you don't know," Arya stated to Helena's annoyance. "If it doesn't rely on physical shape, can you charm any object to make a sound like that? How about my hairband?" Arya removed her hairband and held it out, "can you do the same to this?"

"Why would your headband want to play music?" Helena asked, puzzled.

Arya pinched the bridge of her nose and put her hairband back on. "Never mind. What is the most combat worthy spell that you can use fast and without limit?"

Helena blinked. "You mean the most destructive?" She took back her flute and quickly applied the general counter-spell to stop the playing before pocketing it again. "Can you point me at something you don't need."

Arya glanced at Orik who looked uncertain. "Does it need to be large?" he asked.

"It would serve as a better demonstration if it was," Helena said, "I could also just fire at the floor I suppose?"

"Hmm, I don't think there are any tunnels under us that might collapse."

Helena looked around the room and nodded; it was quite large. "Alright. Everyone move to one side and brace yourself." She made a beckoning gesture and walked to a corner.

Everyone – except for the dragons who just looked excited – now started to look worried at the safety precautions.

Helena clenched her marked hand which started to glow red from within as if she was squeezing a red light between her fingers. She stood sideways, looking over her shoulder, and pushed her hand forward, opened her palm, and releasing her spell with a cry of 'Confringo!'.

The red beam of 'light' shot forward like an arrow and upon contact with the ground exploded in a loud and fiery explosion. Arya, Orik, Eragon, and even Helena, all instinctively turned away and held their arms in front of their faces to protect from the blast wave and any shrapnel, of which there was some. They also crouched down to better keep their balance on the quaking earth. The dragons were mostly unaffected besides looking up nervously at the ceiling for fear that it would collapse on them.

"Never use that magic underground or anywhere in Farthen Dûr again!" Orik roared when they collected themselves. "You might bring the whole mountain down on our heads."

"Indeed," Arya scolded her, "If I had known, I would never have allowed you to do that in here."

Helena bowed her head and studied her feet. "I'm sorry," she murmured. In the interest of giving an accurate view of what she could do, she hadn't held back this time as she usually did after her transformation.

Where the spell had landed now stood a large smoldering crater in the ground. The ground glowing a soft dark red from the heat of it. Any rocks and pebbles in the vicinity had been blasted outwards, hence the shrapnel. They had gotten lucky that none of them – not counting the dragons who were sturdier – had gotten hit by anything more than small dust particles. Half of the lamps that hung on the wall had been shaken loose and were now wobbling over its cylinder surface.

"I should go and warn the nearest outpost that there hasn't been an earthquake. I will be back soon," Orik said before running off.

Eragon, sensing her dejected mood, briefly wrapped his arm around her and pressed her closer to him for comfort. Helena felt a warm feeling spread through her and shot him a grateful look.

Arya spared them a pained look before looking back at the crater with more interest. "And you can do this at will?"

"Yes, but as you can see, it is dangerous to do in close ranges."

"What would you use if the enemy is closer?"

"Uhm. . . I have a paralyzing spell and a disarming spell. Those are usually my go-to spells in most fights."

Arya shot her a worried look, "I hope you realize that won't be able to get out of this war without getting some blood on your hands?"

Helena was annoyed; yes, she knew. "That doesn't mean I have to do it all, or even most, of the time. Not being able to bake an omelet without breaking some eggs isn't an excuse to break more eggs than you need to."

Arya held out her hand in a placating manner. "An apt metaphor, and you are right. Still, my point remains. What would you use if you were pressed and you couldn't afford to the risk of taking prisoners?"

"But that's just it," Helena stressed, "hitting someone with a spell to render a person harmless or hitting someone with a spell to kill him is just as easy. I realize that normally taking a person alive is the more difficult and riskier task, but that just isn't the case with me." She wasn't sure that was true with the way wards were set up in this world, but it was an argument she was familiar with in her old world. Because there wasn't a gap in difficulty between capturing someone alive and killing, there was no such thing as 'killing in self-defense' in the wizarding world. If you killed a person then that means you wanted him dead, plain and simple. Even in most of the so called 'wizarding wars' of the past, you still took your enemies alive. Granted, the stories of what happened to those captured enemies made it hard to think of it as a mercy, but the point remained. Until the Death Eaters and Voldemort came, magicals killing other magicals in combat or even in war was the exception in history.

Arya blinked, "I see. When you mean 'hitting someone with a spell', are you implying that all your spells take the form of a beam of light?"

"With a few exceptions, yes."

"What kind of exceptions," Arya pressed.

"Some spells take the form of a blast of fire, frost, wind, or water from my hand. One is meant to summon items to my hand. That one doesn't require targeting, but most of my spells require a hit from a beam of light like the one you saw."

Arya made a thoughtful humming noise, "I still want to know what you would use if you needed to take someone out permanently."

Helena expression grew pained. "I suppose I could sent a torrent of flame or I could use a spell called 'sectumsempra'. It cuts a person to pieces as if by an invisible sword."

Arya quirked an eyebrow. "You don't have a spell to cause a painless death?"

 _Yes._ "No."

"Really?" Arya pressed, practically oozing skepticism.

 _Why am I so bad at lying!_ "Not without relying on some extremely dark magic."

"Dark magic is only such because of how it is used. In the end magic has no morality besides what a magician gives it," Arya recited in a practiced manner before catching herself. "Is it somehow different with you?"

"It is. It requires you to infuse a spell with hatred or a similar emotion. The more you do it, the easier it becomes to you use, and in the end, it turns you into monster."

"I will take your word on it. Then the last thing I need to know is: can you use your magic to heal?"

"Yes, but nothing truly severe and not as well as Eragon, and if it fails, it makes things worse. While your healing magic is dangerous on the user, mine is dangerous on the one being healed." Helena wondered if Arya was going need a demonstration for that, and if so, if she was going to cause an injury to someone that Helena would have to heal.

Thankfully, Arya seemed to trust her word on this. "Then we will begin with your physical examination once Orik returns."  
 _  
Joy,_ she thought bitterly.

"When we leave for Ellesméra," Eragon spoke up after a few seconds of silence, "can Murtagh come with us?"

 _I was going to bring that up after the testing was done,_ Helena told herself.

"What good would that do?" Arya asked, her tone indicating that the answer was 'nothing'.

Neither Eragon nor Helena could immediately come up with a practical reason that required his presence. "He is a friend and we would like to take him with us," Eragon said.

"You do him no favors by taking him with you. Once your training starts, you will be too busy to spend any time on him. Murtagh would end up feeling bored, forgotten, and without purpose. He would do more good staying here and helping Ajihad and the Varden. You can see him again when you return."

 _Doesn't she know that Ajihad is keeping Murtagh a captive?_ "He refuses to have his mind read, so Ajihad is keeping him locked up. And I am not sure Murtagh would join the Varden even if he was free," Helena confessed.

"Then you would serve Murtagh best by changing his mind," Arya stressed.

 _So we can't take him with us,_ Helena though morosely.

"Who's mind? Murtagh's or Ajihad's?" Eragon grimaced. "I am not sure which would be more impossible."

"Either," Arya said, "I will try to convince Ajihad to go easy on Murtagh. That is the best I can do."

"Thank you," Helena said without much sincerity and downcast eyes; feeling disappointed.

"Do the elves know anything about world traveling?" Eragon asked after another moment of silence.

Helena snapped to attention.

"I suppose it is no secret why you ask," Arya mused, and again, Helena could not make out any emotion on her face. _I don't think I have ever met anyone who could look this stoic._ It was a shame; Helena thought she would look prettier if she smiled more. "The short answer is no. There are a couple of theories, but nothing that has been proven. I am sorry." And Helena's mood plummeted again. "After the war however, I am sure there will be many scholars among my people that would be eager to help you research it now that you have proven it is possible."

"I suppose there is no use in worrying about it until this war is over." Helena gave a weak smile.

"I am sure my people will do all they can," Arya promised, before giving her a tiny smile. "Just try and stop them. We elves tend to be a curious lot, so your situation will likely attract a great deal of interest."

"Yay me," Helena mock cheered with a still weak but more real smile.

 _'Arya. Do you have the same supernatural abilities that Durza has?'_ Godric asked suddenly.

Arya seemed momentarily surprised by the question, or perhaps who had asked it, but answered swiftly in the same broad mental communication that all present could hear. _'I do, though I could never hope to match him in a battle of endurance.'_

Helena was now convinced more than ever that the next part of the test was going to suck for her, and probably for Eragon too.

 _'Will our riders gain the same abilities eventually?'_ Godric asked further.

 _'I would assume so,'_ Arya guessed, _'I know that some of the human riders of the past had similar abilities. Galbatorix certainly has them, so there must be a way for you to gain them.'_

That thought did appeal to Helena, and she found a small smirk appearing on her face at the thought of moving with such speed and grace. She had of course assumed that she would be able to gain those abilities eventually since everyone placing their hopes on her and Eragon would make no sense otherwise, but it was nice to get confirmation.

They didn't have to wait much longer for Orik to return. Judging by his labored breathing he had made haste.

"People were panicking before I arrived, as expected," Orik grumbled with an annoyed glare at her direction, "I was able to put their fears to rest."

"I already said I was sorry," Helena complained sourly.

Orik didn't respond, which Helena figured was probably for the best.

Arya walked a few feet away from Eragon, and drew her sword from her scabbard with her left hand. "Do you know this spell?" she asked before casting the familiar blade-dulling spell that Brom had taught to Eragon.

"Aye," Eragon grinned, and drew Za'roc with a steel schwing sound out of its metal scabbard.

From the look on Eragon's face, Helena could tell he was taking this spar very seriously. Considering Arya's previous claim of abilities, he would be mad not to.

Eragon held his red blade to his side, pointing downward, which was his preferred starting position while Arya's more sword was held in front of her with the point pointed upwards at Eragon's face. Arya's blade – while well made – didn't look anything special, especially compared to Za'roc's unusually thin blade.

"Whenever you are ready," Arya said.

"I am ready," Eragon answered with just the barest twitch of his lips.

Despite his declaration, he made no move forward, clearly wanting Arya to come to him.

A flash of amusement crossed the elf's face before she lunged forward, crossing the distance between them in a single blink of an eye, dust flying into the air where her feet touched the ground.

It was immediately obvious to all present that Arya could end the fight whenever she wanted but was deliberately extending the spar. Whenever she got Eragon off balanced, she would tap him lightly with her sword to prove that she could have ended the fight at that point but then immediately disengage afterwards, giving Eragon time to collect his bearings.

Eragon seemed to realize that his goal in this fight was not to win but to demonstrate his skill and so he did. Moving from one pose to another, every one of his attacks seemed to be setting up the next. None of them connected but Helena was still impressed; Eragon had always been a good swordsmen from the moment she met him, but this went far beyond good. He fought better now than she had ever seen him but she supposed nobody had ever pushed him as far Arya was doing. At one point Eragon managed to move in close so they were nearly grappling but. . . well it happened too fast for Helena to see or understand, but one moment Eragon had grabbed Arya's arm and the next he was on the ground with Arya's blade pointed at his throat.

"You pass," Arya said.

 _'That last move wasn't a matter of strength or speed but of leverage and technique,'_ Godric commented. _'She may be faster and stronger, but it would be wrong to assume that is all there is to it. She too is a master swordsman I think.'_

 _'Wonderful,'_

Helena griped, and she supposed it was wonderful, but it just made her dread the coming fight even more. _'As if my chances weren't non-existent enough.'_

 _'Just do your best and remember that this isn't how you are going to fight anyhow, so it doesn't matter.'_

Helena conceded that he was right, but that didn't stop her from dreading the coming fight. With Eragon and Murtagh, while she could never win, she could still fight back.

Helena reflected that, even more so than the technical skill that Eragon had displayed, she was impressed by the determination Eragon had shown. It took a special kind of will to fight with all you have, even knowing that you couldn't win. Helena knew that if the situation was right, she could do the same – she _had_ done the same in the past – but she wasn't sure she could muster that kind of resolve for a simple test.

It seemed Orik was finished gushing over Eragon's performance and she decided to get in her own two cents. "You fought very well," she praised, hoping that Eragon wouldn't notice how nervous she was. She suspected that Eragon was, in general, less observant than Arya and Orik but he knew her better than anyone here save Godric.

He didn't noticed, too caught up in his own achievement. He seemed embarrassed by the compliment, "I still lost."

"I doubt anyone could have done better," Helena retorted. _Anyone human anyway._

Though embarrassed, he was pleased as well, and didn't argue further, moving to sit beside Saphira's leg.

"Your turn," Arya commanded, motioning her to stand in front of her with the tip of her sword.

Helena did so, and resisted the urge to slump her shoulders as she walked over and held her staff at the ready.

"You do not use a sword?" Arya asked.

"I wasn't any good at it," Helena said, trying not to let her annoyance show. "Brom said a staff would suit me better, since I will mainly be trying to keep distance."

"All Riders traditionally know how to use a sword. Enough hard work and effort can overcome any lack of talent," Arya scolded, "not being able to learn something as easily as you would have hoped is no excuse to stop trying."

"I was never one for tradition and I prefer a staff." Helena wasn't sure that last one was true – through continuous defeats she had slowly come to dislike all form of combat with weapons – but now that she had begun practicing the staff, she didn't want to have to switch to another weapon and begin from scratch.

"If you really are better with a staff than I suppose I understand," Arya mused, "whenever you are ready, and no magic."

Helena took a breath. "I am ready." And like Eragon, she waited for Arya to move first.

If there was one thing about this that Helena was good at, it was reflexes, which meant she was able to intercept Arya's blade before Helena had even fully registered that the elf had moved.

The problem was that Arya had now already gotten past the ideal distance for fighting someone with a smaller weapon, which forced Helena to grab her staff in the middle so as to hold it close to her body instead of pointed forward while grabbing it on one side for maximum reach.

And it was all downhill from there.

Just as she had expected, Arya took advantage of her now vulnerable hands to tap her fingers with her blade – thankfully not hard – to showcase that Helena was in a bad position.

Rather than pressing her advantage, Arya retreated, something you would never do in a real fight in this situation.

Arya waited and when it was clear that Helena wasn't going to take the initiative she commanded the younger girl to attack.

After a moment's hesitation, Helena lunged forward, Arya easily sidestepping the thrust. The elf spun forward and Helena found the elf's blade next to her midsection. "You are too afraid! You assumed your strike would fail even before you began!" Arya bellowed, before retreating again.

Helena knew that Arya was right. If you believed you were going to fail before you even began then you _had_ already failed before you began; it was the same with magic. Knowing that didn't help her though. The inverse of believing you will fail didn't hold up; believing you will succeed doesn't make it so, and Helena couldn't lie to herself. Helena knew with certainty that even if she was able to fully commit herself, it would only result in her losing slightly less harshly. How could she believe that she would succeed it she knew it wasn't so?

Trying not to let any of her defeatist thoughts show on her face, Helena continued trying to land a hit on Arya, all to no effect. She wished that she could use the anger at the situation to make her strikes more savage and powerful, but with her magic being what it was, she dared not risk it.

With no confidence or anger to rely on, the only thing left for her to try to do was to not let despair make her strikes lethargic and rely on her pride at not giving up to keep going. She considered attacking with her mind to maybe gain a surprise advantage, but Arya has asked for 'no magic' and that probably counted as such and she didn't think it would work in any event.

Arya didn't end the fight with some great finisher like she did with Eragon. After only a few minutes she disengaged and create a large distance between them, sword hanging loosely at her side to show that the fight was over and giving a despondent sigh. "This isn't working. If this is your best, you are not ready to face any sort of trained soldier, not like this."

Helena said nothing, simply gritting her teeth, her face flushing with shame. She supposed she could make some excuse about not needing this but it felt like just that, 'an excuse'. Godric tried to send her feelings of reassures and repeated his previous argument but it didn't help.

She looked to Eragon and Orik and found them whispering to each other. When they noticed her staring, they stopped, looked at each other, and Eragon made an insisted motion towards the door with his face, followed by Orik nodding and leaving the room.

"What where you two whispering about?" Arya demanded.

"I think Helena just needs a sparring partner that is on her level to get an accurate view of her skills," Eragon said.

Helena heart dropped and she shot Eragon a despairing look. Yes, she had failed, but at least it was over now. Well, apparently not.

Godric wanted to put a stop to it all, but Helena forbade it. Failing was one thing, but giving up would be worse.

"Orik is going to get a new recruit that just joined the Varden for you to fight. He won't have been trained yet, at least no more than a few days," Eragon tried to assure her.

"What will that accomplish," Arya demanded angrily, gesturing towards Helena. "She won't be fighting green boys but trained soldiers."

"You stay out of this," Eragon snapped at her, causing Arya's eyes to widen briefly before her face closed off.

"As you wish, _Argetlam,"_ Arya replied coldly before moving to lean against the wall, watching the proceedings with a near tangible sense of disapproval _._

After a few minutes of tense silence Orik came back, dragging a plain young man with red hair who looked to be in his early twenties behind him. When his eyes fell on them – mostly the dragons – he gave a soundless gasp of surprise. Clearly he hadn't been informed about what he was getting into.

"Everyone, this is Robin," Orik told the room at large before turning back to the redhead, "Robin, these are Helena, Eragon, Arya, Saphira, and Godric." Orik pointed at each as he named them. "We simply need you to have a small sparring match with Helena. Don't worry, there are no stakes. This is just a friendly sparring match no more."

The young man – though he was older than Helena – opened his mouth to object, but seemed to think better of it and closed it again, briefly, before replying, "Yes sir." He moved opposite Helena.

Helena noticed that the man seemed both confused and incredibly nervous; he hadn't even stopped to gape at Arya as most men they passed on their walk towards this room had done.

Helena wondered if she should say something to him. She did feel sorry for him being dragged here and he obviously felt overwhelmed, but she couldn't think of anything that wouldn't sound trite.

Eragon walked over to Robin and – after giving some assurances that he would remove it later – used magic to dull his blade.

Orik raised his hand. "On my mark," he said with obvious enthusiasm. "Now!" His hand came down in a chopping motion.

Helena took the initiative with a few proving thrusts to test her opponents guard and reflexes. Even though he hadn't received more than a few days training, he was able to deflect her staff to the sides without issue. He grabbed her staff and so she twisted and pulled at it sharply to the rear while also stepping backwards to make him lose his grip.

Helena felt her eyes narrowing. Losing to Arya, Eragon, Brom, or Murtagh was one thing, but losing to a raw recruit would be so much worse.

When he moved in to close the distance again, she held her staff closer to the middle, intentionally fighting at a shorter range than she could. She blocked three of his strikes, giving ground with each exchange so as to compensate for her lack of strength. The last exchange ended with her blocking a high strike to the shoulder with her staff pointed downwards. . . and towards Robin's thigh, she loosened her grip on the middle of the staff while at the same time, with her other hand, pushing it sharply forward.

The blow connected and Helena danced away to prevent a retaliation. Brom had warned them not to stand still or lower one's guard even after a successful blow. 'Even lethal strikes rarely kill so fast that your opponent won't have time for at least one more counter attack, possibly ending with both combatants dead,' she remembered him saying.

Robin seemed to be taking her more seriously after that and lost his hesitancy at fighting her. Despite that, the fight remained relatively even. Helena got in more hits but, as Brom had once told her, a hit from a staff doesn't do as much damage as a sword so she tried not to let it go to her head.

Surprisingly, Helena actually found herself enjoying the fight now that she fighting someone who seemed to actually need to _work_ for a victory. She still felt like her opponent was. . . if not more skilled, at least a better fighter than her which stung, considering she had more experience.

"Alright, enough!" Orik shouted. Helena had been so focused on the match that she had no idea how long they had been at it.

Grinning, Helena gave her opponent a small nod of respect which he returned with an identical expression.

Orik thanked Robin for his help and told him to return to the normal training area where Orik had apparently found him.

As soon as he had left, Arya whirled on Orik. "What was that?" She didn't sound angry, if anything she sounded intrigued.

"Whatever do you mean?" Orik asked with faux innocence.

"Don't play coy with me Orik. I do not for a moment believe that boy was a new recruit."

"Wait, what?" Helena blurted.

Arya turned to her. "The way he held his sword, the automatic way he moved into stance without seeming to think about it, all of it points to someone who has received a decent amount of training. You fought much better against him than you did against me."

"Well of course," Helena huffed, "I actually stood a chance against him."

"I held back when I fought you, even more than I did with Eragon. If you faced me with the same enthusiasm you showed just now then I would have given you a more positive review."

"It was my idea," Eragon spoke up. At everyone questioning look he continued, looking at Helena apologetically. "I have been sparring with you on and off for well over a month now, and I was usually present whenever you fought Murtagh. I saw the resigned look on your face grow worse and worse whenever you grabbed Brom's staff each time. It was your own choice to continue your training, but it was clear to me that you hated it. The thing is, you haven't been improving as Murtagh told me you should have."

Helena cursed. "Then what have I been doing all this time? Have I just been wasting my time?"

"I think being reminded of your lack of talent each and every day has slowly worn away your drive and enthusiasm. I remembered the zeal you first showed when Brom began teaching you that first lesson. You were clumsier back then, but there was fire in your eyes that slowly went away during our travels with Murtagh."

Helena understood. "You are saying that I gave up on trying to win? You wanted to trick me into thinking that I could beat my opponent this time so I would fight harder?"

Grimacing, Eragon nodded, "I am sorry that I tricked you."

"No. You have nothing to be sorry for," she said, feeling hope well up inside her. This reminded her of the time she had tricked Ron by making him believe he had drank the luck potion. "How good was my opponent really?"

"He has been training for a few weeks now," Orik replied.

"Not that much longer than you," Eragon pointed out to her.

"It is incredible that Eragon is as good as he is. He should not be this good given the time he had to learn," Orik said.

"And Murtagh has been training since childhood and Brom had already created a legend of his own by the time you met him," Eragon added, "I think you were unfairly comparing yourself to us."

"You are not as spectacular as Eragon, but you are not _bad_ ," Orik said, stressing the last word. "You are about as good as one would expect from one of your body type and a month of training. You are average, perhaps even a little above that, but definitely not terrible."

"Helena, how where you trained?" Arya asked, a worried look on her face.

"Ehm. . . Brom instructed me daily," Helena answered uncertainly, not sure what Arya wanted to know.

"May I see the memories?"

"I thought you said that you wouldn't look into Rider secrets?" Helena returned wryly.

"I was mostly referring to magical instructions and secrets. I doubt _these_ specific lessons are much different than what most common recruits get. I could be wrong though, and maybe Brom had some special shortcut to make you learn faster. If that is the case, then you should refuse my request." Arya said and Helena could clearly tell the elf didn't believe Helena had received some 'special instructions'.

"I suppose that is alright," Helena said. Arya had already proven she wouldn't abuse the opportunity to gain secret knowledge.

Arya leaned back against the wall and closed her eyes. Helena did the same and focused on that first time Brom had handed her a mock sword.

Helena later reflected that Arya was able to pull on memories and the feelings associated with them better than she herself could recall them. She wished that she could look at her own memories the way that Arya seemed to be able to examine them; it might give her a perfect memory on the level of Hermione or something.

"I think Brom might have made a mistake with you," Arya said once it was over.

"You think I should have stuck to a sword?" Helena asked.

"No, though I do think both of you gave up on that too quickly. What I mean is that he shouldn't have gone with the sink or swim approach with you."

"He gave me plenty of instructions," Helena protested, she could tell that, unlike Snape, Brom had actually meant well and had done his best in his own rough way. She also defended Brom for Eragon's benefit, because when she looked at him, he clearly looked upset about the criticism of his mentor.

"Yes, but instead of correcting your mistakes, he should have begun by teaching you all the correct moves beforehand. You should have been taught to crawl and walk before you tried sprinting."

"Murtagh said that no amount of technical knowledge could teach me to fight, only continuous practice could do that." And she had always learned better by doing than by endless explanations.

"And there is some truth to that, but technical knowledge does have a place, and it seems that the continuous losses have also sapped away your spirit. I think a more methodical approach might serve you better in this case."

"Will we have time for that?" Helena asked skeptically.

"Maybe not," Arya admitted, "but that is no excuse not to try or start."

Helena supposed that was true. She wondered if Arya was going to be the one to train her in the sword or someone else.

After a few moments waiting if anyone else had anything left to add Arya ended to testing. "I will inform Ajihad of what I have learned, or at least enough for him to have some idea of your abilities. I will try to speak to him about Murtagh when I do. Consider it a first step in me repaying my debt to you, though I still advise you to speak to Murtagh yourself. No amount of good will on Ajihad's part will help if Murtagh doesn't wish to join the Varden."

xxxxxxxxxx

They parted ways with Arya when they reached the large open area that surrounded Tronjheim. She headed straight to Tronjheim and promised to bring up Murtagh again when she talked to Ajihad when she made her report. Helena and Eragon decided to take a small detour so they could talk more. Orik kept following them because of 'security reasons'. He did keep a large distance so they could have privacy however.

The dragons had decided to fly overhead. Close by enough to reassure them, yet far enough so that they wouldn't betray who Eragon and Helena were from a distance.

"I don't know what else I can say to them," Helena admitted. "Ajihad has already said in no uncertain terms that he won't bend on this issue and Murtagh. . ." she trailed off. Honestly, she had trouble guessing what went through Murtagh's head. He came reluctantly to this place, and mostly because of her and Eragon, but he _did_ come. A small part of him must be considering joining up with the Varden. Surely.

"Murtagh is stubborn," Eragon said, "he said that he doesn't believe in the Varden, and for him to change his mind now would require that he swallow his pride and admit that he was wrong."

Helena brows furrowed. _Stupid pride._ "Do you have any ideas?"

"I don't know," Eragon said, echoing her own frustration. "Perhaps Murtagh even wants the Varden to turn on them, simply so he can say to himself: 'Ha! I was right all along!'. Or perhaps he truly is afraid of what they will do to him and how they will react to his parentage." In a quieter voice, he added, "I know I am." Back in a normal voice. "Or perhaps he refused because he doesn't think the Varden's cause is the right one. We can't convince him of anything so long as we don't know the reasons behind his actions, and I don't know if he would give us a straight answer if we just asked him; if he even knows them himself."

"So it's all up to Arya." Helena sighed. "You think that if Arya or Nasuada can convince Ajihad to give Murtagh a chance, he would take it?"

"I think so," Eragon said, "if someone went out of their way to help him, he wouldn't spit on those efforts by ignoring it. He does care a lot about 'paying his debts', I think."

"So it is best to simply do nothing while hoping Arya and Nasuada come through for us?" she summarized. She didn't like that.

"So it would seem." Eragon looked towards Tronjheim. "What do you want to do now?"

They had nothing planned for what to do after the testing and the day had just past noon.

"Let's return to the Dragonhold to rest for a while. We can always change our mind later.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Orik left them when the dragons transported them to the Dragonhold. He told them to look for him in the training area just outside of Tronjheim if they needed him. He also warned them not to go anywhere unknown without taking him as a guide with him. 'For a multitude of reasons,' he had said.

Unfortunately, Helena had always had adventurous streak.

"Ye know, I could just transport us to an underground tunnel and explore from there. Saphira and Godric can warn us if someone is looking for us and we need to return."

"They wouldn't like that." Eragon sounded more amused than worried.

 _The fact that they don't want us running around without supervision is what made it interesting in the first place,_ thought Helena.

"I am feeling like being naughty, and it has been too long since I have gone exploring." A place this old was bound to have many hidden places. It would like exploring Hogwarts all over again. "Just let me ask Godric." Eragon nodded and sat himself down on one of metal steps of a ladder leading to one of the caves.

 _'Can you keep an eye out for us?'_ she asked Godric who was still stretching his wings above Tronjheim.

 _'I will send a signal if someone comes looking,'_ he assured them, _'but only if you promise not to. . .'_ he paused. _'On second thought, I don't want you to go exploring into the unknown without me.'_

 _'Eragon will be with me the whole time,'_ Helena protested.

 _'No. For all we know there is some giant flaming daemon hidden under this mountain.'_

Helena wanted to say that was ridiculous but considering her track record. . .

She sighed, making Eragon look at her curiously. _'We will stay here.'_

'Good girl,' he mock patronized. Helena could tell however, that he was very glad that she had listened to him.

"It seems our misadventure got killed in its infancy, unless we take Orik or some other guide along," she said sourly.

Eragon shrugged. "I would have liked to see more of Tronjheim, but I want to be alone with you even more."

Feeling her head grow lighter and her legs suddenly grow weaker she sat herself down on the marble circle that surrounded the Star Sapphire. _'Aren't boys usually more reserved with their feelings? Shouldn't he be embarrassed about saying such things?'_ she wondered to herself.

'Why w _ould he be? Especially, when it seems to have such great effect on you,'_ Godric commented.

Eragon stood up and went to sit next to her, laying one of his hands over hers. Helena leaned towards him and tried to rest her head on his shoulder, but after a few seconds decided that it would start getting uncomfortable if she did this for too long and sat back straight.

"Could you finish your tale that you cut short two days ago?" Eragon asked. He had a very pleased smile on his face after her short attempt at nestling his neck. "I wish you hadn't spoiled it by giving an inadequate summary, but I am still curious."

"Sorry about that," she said with a sheepish smile. "Now where was I?"

"You were having strange dreams?" Eragon supplied helpfully.

"Ah, yes." And she told him about the dreams of dark corridor and closed doors.

"Where they true dreams like my dreams about Arya?" Eragon asked.

"They weren't normal, I can promise you that, and I certainly started to think that they were true, but these dreams turned out to be more sinister in nature."

Eragon didn't press further, expecting that Helena would explain further when it became relevant.

She told him about how she started to teach a group of fellow students how to fight properly, or as properly as someone mostly self-taught like her could teach them. While Hermione may have been the one to originally come up with the idea and how to keep it a secret, Helena herself had thrown herself into the project with vigor, both because it was fun and necessary but also because she wanted to fight back against Umbridge's policies however she could.

Helena continued to share stories about Umbridge's general bitchiness. She gave Eragon some annoyed pushes when he seemed to find some of her continuous ranting amusing, instead of getting angry on her behalf like he was supposed to.

He simply laughed, and after a few seconds, she decided it wasn't worth fighting over and moved on.

She went back to the dreams because, despite her personal hatred of Umbridge, they really were more important in the grand scheme of things.

Eragon listened to her recitation of her dreams about Nagini attacking Arthur and the resulting Occlumancy lessons.

". . . that might not have been one of my smartest ideas. Snape kept that memory in a pensive specifically so that I _wouldn't_ end up seeing it. What can I say? As I am sure you have noticed by now, just like you I am too curious for my own good. The memory showed a humiliating scene of Snape being bullied by my father. He levitated Snape by his ankles, and acted like a real asshole, and he even acted like a pig towards my mother. When my mom tried to get him to stop he said that he would _if_ she decided to go out with him."

Eragon made an uncomfortable 'Euhming' sound.

"Yes, I know," Helena grumbled, "Having always idolized both my parents, this was an unpleasant revelation to put it mildly. Remus and Sirius pleaded with me not to judge him by what was probably one of his worst moments and I later learned that he grew out of it along with some other anecdotes of some of his better moments. He _did_ save Snape's live before that point, and I am not sure Snape would have done the same if their positions were reversed. And he helped Remus with his werewolf curse and he was by all accounts a very loyal friend to have, not to mention all his efforts against Voldemort, but still. . . I wish that wasn't my only somewhat _real_ memory of him as a child."

"I am sorry," Eragon said through an uncomfortable grimace.

"Thanks," she acknowledged his sympathy and move on.

Eragon listened patiently to how the DA was discovered and the aftermath. Helena then had a great time reciting all the ways most of Hogwarts started to rebel against Umbridge after she became headmistress.

"I feel this would all be much funnier if I was actually there," Eragon commented. "I wish I was."

"Me too," Helena smiled. "I am trying to imagine how it would have been if you were there. What house do you think you would have been in?"

"Well from what I am hearing, Gryffindor definitely seems the best," Eragon grinned.

"My accounts are probably biased," Helena admitted, "but the hat definitely would have allowed you to go to Gryffindor, if you had asked it of him."

Since studying wasn't very interesting, and was easily summarized besides, she quickly arrived at her dream of Sirius being tortured. Eragon kept silent during her retelling of the battle in the Ministry and all its consequences.

"Explain to me again why you speak so highly of this Dumbledore?" Eragon asked when she had fully explained her fifth year. "If he had just told you to distrust these visions then all that could have been avoided."

"Maybe, and we did distrust the visions somewhat – at least Hermione did – that is why we checked the flue connection to Grimmauld place, remember?"

"He still should have told you," Eragon insisted.

"I agree," Helena said calmly, "but hindsight is 20/20."

"Hindsight is what now?"

"It means that it's easy to know what the right thing to do is after you already know all the consequences. Dumbledore didn't know that Voldemort would use the connection that way. The reason I needed to learn Occlumancy was to prevent Voldemort from learning information that was in my head, not to protect against fake visions. I think the visions were by many considered a good thing – it did save Arthur after all – but the risk that Voldemort would get similar visions from my perspective was too great. That was also why I was kept in the dark about most of the Order's activities, since they thought Voldemort could learn of them through me. The thought that my visions could be faked was not the primary concern, I think."

"So you don't blame him?" Eragon wondered.

"I _do_ blame him," she insisted harshly. "Just like I blame Voldemort, Bellatrix, and most of all, myself." she sighed. "Let's take a break," she said, standing up. After looking about for something interesting, her gaze fell on the endless staircase and the slide next to it. "You think it is safe for me to use that slide," she asked eagerly.

"Orik said it was unsafe for humans," Eragon warned. He remained sitting.

"But I am small," Helena retorted, for once being glad of that fact.

"I still wouldn't risk it, and the dwarves might get annoyed; it wasn't built with entertainment in mind."

Helena groaned. "Nothing _fun_ is ever safe." But she let the matter drop. "I guess I will continue with sixth and seventh year, but after that I want to go for a walk or something." She sat back down.

The story of her sixth year ended up being a lot shorter than that of her fifth. Eragon commented that he wished that they had some Felix Felicis available for their fight against Galbatorix. Helena fully agreed with that sentiment. The thing that got the most reaction out of Eragon, however, was the incident with the love potion.

"Someone drugged you to feel attraction to a boy that you hated!" Eragon exclaimed, looking appropriately horrified. "That's. . . that's. . ." They were both thinking the same thing, so Helena saw no reason to say the word.

"Yes. . . Though I don't think that McLaggen would ever have taken it that far. I have never seen McGonagall as angry as she did when she learned of what had happened. It was like her rage had gone full circle and she appeared perfectly calm, and asked me plainly if I would like him expelled from Hogwarts."

"Please tell me that you did," Eragon pleaded.

"No, I didn't," she replied calmly. Before Eragon could tell her how stupid that was, she continued. "As I said, I don't think he would have ever taken it that far. He wasn't an evil person, just sort of arrogant and stupid. He didn't realize just how big of a deal what he did was. McGonagall gave him a big dressing down afterwards and he appeared shocked and horrified by what the power a love potion granted could be used for and he ended up apologizing quite profusely to me. When the school at large learned what had happened, the entire female population – including the Slytherins – made a habit of cursing him in the corridors whenever they encountered him. He never once fought back, always just using defensive spells to flee, as if a part of himself thought he deserved the punishment. It was that continuous show of guilt that eventually made all the cursing and jinxing stop. It was said that his father considered withdrawing him from Hogwarts anyway to minimize the shame to his family," though she wondered if he would have done so if the victim was someone less important than herself. "Skipping ahead a bit, in the next year he joined the D.A's resistance against the Death Eaters, including the final battle."

"Still more merciful than I think you should have been," Eragon grumbled.

"As I said, he ended up helping us all in the end. I don't think I should have destroyed his future for a mistake he made in his youth. Especially since Hermione dragged me to Professor Slughorn for a cure before any damage was done, and again, I don't think his intentions were _that_ malicious. Considering how I later nearly killed a fellow student, I don't think I have the right to throw stones here."

That shut Eragon up and she continued her tale where Hermione managed to save her life with a bezoar from a poison that was meant for Dumbledore.

". . . We never saw Fawkes again after that. And with the death of Dumbledore, we knew it was only a matter of time before the ministry would fall. Voldemort and Dumbledore were both in a different league compared to ordinary wizards, though Dumbledore was stronger. As long as Dumbledore lived, Voldemort could not take the ministry, since the headmaster would just throw him out immediately afterwards. It was one of the reasons the Dark's strategy during the war comprised mostly of hit and run tactics; they knew that they would never be able to hold any territory or stay too long in one place for fear of Dumbledore showing up."

"Yesterday, you said that Snape killed Dumbledore, except not really."

"Yea, I ruined the surprise, didn't I? Dumbledore was. . . you want to know already?"

"Tell it however you please," Eragon said.

"Well, alright then. Dumbledore was already dying and. . ." She really was a terrible storyteller; every time a mystery came up, she was just too tempted to spoil the surprise too early.

The story of the final year of the war went by without any comment from Eragon, though he did bite into the nail of his thumb when the part about her needing to die was revealed.

Until the resurrection stone.

". . . first time travel and now a stone that can bring that the dead back?" Her story once again seems to test Eragon's ability to accept the ridiculous.

"Nothing can ever bring the dead back to life," Helena corrected. "Nothing. Those apparitions may have been real, but they were not alive."

"Still, for the chance to talk to the dead again. . ." Eragon trailed off, looking pained.

"It is tempting," Helena admitted, "but it does us no good to dwell on the past and forget to live. They are at peace, Eragon; you do them no favors by forcing them in a world that is no longer theirs."

"Do you still have the stone?" She knew it was more than idle curiosity.

"I hid it away to be lost forever," Helena said with a heavy look at her boyfriend. "Let it go, Eragon."

Eragon looked like he still wanted to protest, but he seemed to swallow the words and motioned for her to continue.

It didn't take very long to finish her story after that.

". . . After the war I spent most of time helping to rebuild Hogwarts and help sort out the mess that Magical Britain had become. I also tried to finish some of the education that we missed out on alongside Ron and Hermione. "

"What happened to the remaining Death Eaters?"

"Some fled, some went back to jail – without Dementors this time – a few earned themselves a pardon because they had a change of hearts before the end of the war, like Draco. Some were released due to a lack of evidence."

"Again?" Eragon asked incredulously.

"It was the same problem from last time. It is almost impossible to tell someone who is under the Imperius Curse from someone who acts under their own free will." Unlike the other two unforgivable, the Imperious Curse was dark magic only in the legal sense, not the academic sense; it didn't need any anger to function. Hell, in desperation Helena had used it herself on two goblins during the Gringotts heist without negative consequence. Yet, there is no spell in existence that is so open to abuse as the Imperious Curse. It was estimated that by the end of the war, almost a quarter of the adult population in magical Britain had been under its influence. "Legilimency and Veritasium aren't perfect solutions and there are ways to get around them. I don't like it, but I do agree with it; better one guilty person goes free than having an innocent person convicted."

"Lucius Malfoy?"

"He got sent to prison, alongside everyone who first showed up in the graveyard at Voldemort's resurrection. My testimony was good enough for most. Lucius in particular did receive a plea bargain. . . that's a situation where someone is being very cooperative in exchange for a reduced sentence – I gather that Draco arranged that – though he would never be allowed to leave his mannor again."

"Still seems lenient to me," Eragon said, though he didn't sound very sure anymore.

"What you need to understand is that the population of our little society was small. Around three thousand total, I think, and they all went to the same school. Everyone knew almost everyone. This wasn't a war where you were fighting nameless strangers who spoke a different language – as was the case with most non-magical wars – instead we fought classmates and colleagues who more often than not had the same culture as us. Draco and I were enemies, but we were also an intrinsic part of each other's childhoods. Killing someone like that is no easy thing. Muggleborns like Hermione and muggle-raised like myself who didn't know everyone's last names were the exceptions, not the rule."

"How rare were muggleborns?"

"At my best guess? For every ten wizards, you had two muggleborns, four half-bloods, and four pure-bloods. Don't quote me on that though. Any other questions?"

"Plenty. How can you still speak so highly of this headmaster of yours after he plotted to kill you?"

"What would you have done, were you in his shoes?"

"I would have found another way," Eragon said immediately.

"I am sure he did look for another way as well, but there wasn't a way to safely remove a horcrux from a living host. So you search for a way to remove a horcrux safely and don't find one. What do you do now?"

"I don't know!" he was obviously frustrated. "Any plan that ends up in with you getting killed is unacceptable."

 _'Precisely,'_ Godric commented.

Helena tried to remain calm but there was a bite to her words. "So you decide to keep me alive, and so keep Voldemort alive. Since Voldemort remains immortal he eventually takes over magical Britain and crushes all resistance, and likely finds and kills me anyway. Would that be your plan?"

"That's unfair," Eragon looked hurt.

"The situation wasn't fair," she retorted and took a calming breath. "All I am saying is that if you can't come up with a better plan yourself than you shouldn't judge him."

"Couldn't they keep Voldemort contained or something?"

Helena was momentarily taken aback; that wasn't a possibility she had ever considered. "There is no way to contain a formless spirit and Voldemort could always destroy his physical form if he was desperate enough."

"I still don't agree," Eragon said mulishly.

Helena sighed. "If it helps, I think Dumbledore guessed that Voldemort having my blood might tether me to the living world enough for me to survive. He gave me the best chance that he could."

"I thought it was that soul piece in your scar that made you survive. Like the killing curse only takes one soul and you had two."

"Possible," Helena allowed. "There is no way to know for sure. Such a situation has never happened before."

"Wait a second," Eragon exclaimed. "You said it was impossible to return from the dead, yet you did."

"True. I guess I came as close to dying without actually dying. My soul never past on. I made the decision to return, remember?"

"I suppose. . . so does that mean there definitely is an afterlife."

"I believe so, but I can't know for certain. I don't know where the train was going. For all we know, it led to pure oblivion, but I find that very unlikely. The only way there couldn't be an afterlife is if the Resurrection Stone was truly a complete hoax, or if I imagined the whole event."

"That's comforting to hear," Eragon breathed. "What about your friends? Where are they now?"

"By the time of my disappearance, Luna had just left on some exploration, looking for creatures that everyone but her are convinced don't exist. Neville was taking a mastery in Herbology in the hopes of one day teaching the subject in Hogwarts. Ginny had only recently left Hogwarts – like Luna – with plans to become a professional Quidditch player. George was still managing his joke shop. Teddy Lupin went to live with his grandmother who was also his godmother. I think Andromada needed to take care of Teddy just as must as Teddy needed to be taken care of; she had just lost her husband and only child after all. Kreacher died not long after the battle; he was old and the fighting took its toll on him." Helena clicked her tongue. "Ron and Hermione are probably in the Department of Mysteries right now, desperately trying to find some way to bring me back or otherwise contact me. That is why I must find a way back. They will never rest until they know I am safe."

"You'll find a way," Eragon insisted.

 _Saying it won't make it so,_ Helena thought, but that would be too nasty to say.

"Not until my business in Alagaësia is done, don't worry," Helena tried to give a smirk.

"And we are very grateful," Eragon nodded with an indulgent smile. "So what do you want to do now."

Helena thought back to when they first met.

She made sure to look into Eragon's eyes as a playful smile tugged at her lips. "Well it seems I have the rest of the day off. Mind if we hang out for a while?"

Eragon stood up and looked down at her with a beaming smile. "Sure why not. I don't have anything pressing to do, so I might as well show you around." He stretched a hand for her to take.

Her smile widened and she took the offered hand. "Then for the next couple of hours, I am in your capable hands."

They would need to keep Orik close, keep out of most public areas, and likely hide their faces, but they weren't going to let that stop them.

* * *

AN: I am not too happy with this chapter to be honest. It mostly rehashed things we already knew, but I knew the testing chapter had to happen.  
For the first time I don't have the next chapter ready when I post the next one, so I can't promise any more regular updates from now on, and I don't want to rush it. The next chapter is already 13k words long and it looks like it is going to become larger than any of my other chapters.  
As for the recommendation of the week: **It Got Loose and Killed All Our Guys: The Project Lazarus Story** by Moczo. It is a relatively short mass effect one shot that is absolutely hilarious.

I also would like to take a moment to thank the few people who leave reviews. I feed on those like a vampire feeds on blood. Whether it is constructive criticism that I can respond to or a simple 'I like this' were I can be like 'Yes! Yes! Praise me more ^.^', or even a negative flame were I can simply sit and watch the review count go up, it is always welcome.


	21. Blood on stone

**Special thanks to my beta CerialReader. With such a long chapter there were also a lot more mistakes to shift through, and I admit I got a bit tired towards the end, creating even more mistakes that needed to be corrected. Again, I can't thank him/her enough for his/her patience.**

* * *

Helena tried to activate her previously sleeping mind as she was being shaken to consciousness.

"Wassaa?" she groused out unintelligibly, tossing, turning, and stretching in her sleep bag in order to wake her body.

"Please, hurry. You must go!" The owner of the unfamiliar voice tried to pull her upright.

Helena was up and walking before she had even properly registered what was happing. Luckily, she had gathered enough of her wits to not just stumble out of the cave and fall to the ground ten feet below. Breaking her neck because she was too sleep addled to notice where she was going would have been an embarrassing way to die after all she had been through.

 _'I would have woken you myself, but your mind was in too deep a sleep for anything but a physical disturbance to work. The dwarf could do that safer than I,'_ Godric let her know. He jumped out of the cave after her, landing on Isidar Mithrim next to Saphira.

Outside, Eragon was already waiting. Only the lanterns that hung from the walls illuminated their surroundings, letting Helena know that it was still deep into the night.

She blinked and shook her head. "Morning." Her voice was slightly slurred. Eragon returned her greeting. "What's happening?" she asked. The urgency she could sense in the dwarf that had climbed up to the cave was making her nervous.

Before Eragon could reply, the dwarf spoke hurriedly. He had just jumped down the last few steps from the ladder. "Hrothgar sent me to get you. He said to hurry and that there was great danger. Ajihad has also been summoned."

 _Interesting power dynamic there._

They took the familiar path that led towards the lift.

"The trolley system normally doesn't work at night," the dwarf who hadn't bothered to introduce himself explained. "But this was important enough to have a crew ordered awake."

"Are you telling me that this machine is pulled upwards by dwarves?" Eragon asked.

"Yes, but it isn't as hard as you think," the dwarf answered. "A series of leverages were built to make the work easer."

When they reached the bottom, they walked towards the central chamber where the dragons – who as usual had to take a detour since they were too large – were waiting for them. From there they were moved to a large room that was just a few turns away from Hrothgar's throne room. The unnamed dwarf waved them inside and didn't follow.

The room was very large. Much larger than Ajihad's study had been. A very large square table stood in the middle. Hrothgar, Orik and a few other dwarves that she didn't recognize sat on one side of the table; Ajihad and some unfamiliar humans and one of the twins sat opposite them. Arya was also present, though she sat apart from the others, alone, at one of the remaining two sides. Godric and Saphira made themselves comfortable by lying behind their riders on the ground.

"Good. You are here," came Hrothgar's gruff voice. "Please sit." Eragon and Helena sat down on the one side of the table that wasn't yet occupied, opposite Arya. They noticed that a giant map was rolled out on the table that covered almost entirely. "Let's get the introductions out of the way. Riders and Dragons, be known to Thirlo–" He pointed towards a lanky looking blond dwarf who looked, by human standards, to be in his fifties. "– of Dûrgrimst Knurlcarathn **.** He knows the network of underground tunnels better than anyone."

"Greetings," the named dwarf said. Even from just that one word, it was obvious from his thick accent that he rarely spoke the common tongue, or English as Helena still called it.

"And this is Hirol of Dûrgrimst Ingeitum," Hrothgar continued, while motioning towards a broad bald dwarf who was taller than any dwarf Helena had ever seen, about as tall as she was. "He is in charge of our garrisons in Tronjheim."

Though Helena had her suspicious before, she was now sure they had entered a war council.

"Well met," Hirol's voice almost as deep as Hrothgar's.

"Well met," Helena and Eragon echoed.

Ajihad and his retinue were up next. "Eragon and Helena, meet Jörmundur, my second in command." Jörmundur wasn't a particularly tall or broad man, but his bare arms were pure muscles. They exchanged greetings. "Next, please meet Sabrae, a member of Varden's council of elders." Sabrae was the only other woman at the table besides Helena and Arya; she had dark circles under her eyes and looked both tired and worried, but introduced herself all the same.

"I am tasked with acting as a representative of most non-combatants and bring any concerns they may have to Ajihad's attention. It is honor to meet you both."

"Likewise," Helena said, followed by Eragon. Helena wondered what this dainty looking woman was doing here; she seemed out of place among all these warriors. "What is happening?"

Hrothgar answered. "About half an hour ago, a dwarf ran out of one of the many abandoned tunnels that go under the Beor Mountains. He was bleeding and nearly incoherent, but he was able to tell us what was pursuing him: an army of Urgals, maybe a day's march from here."

The dwarves didn't seem surprised, indicating that they had already been informed. Ajihad just let out a weary breath, indicating that he probably had already guessed the bad news.

"How large a force?" Jörmundur asked.

"Our arguably lucky informant understandably didn't have a chance to count heads, but it is likely that it is the same army that our scouts spotted a few days ago," Hrothgar answered. "If we are lucky, it will be _only_ that force, and it won't have just been part of a larger army."

"Let us just pray that Galbatorix hasn't reinforced the Urgals with his own forces. There will be no hope of stopping them if he has," Ajihad commented. "Let us hope that he doesn't want his alliance with Urgals known yet either, or fears dissention within his own army if he forces them to cooperate with such a long time hated enemy."

"The force our scouts spotted earlier, numbered nearly eight thousand," Hirol said gruffly. "that is already more than we can muster together on such short notice, but if that is the total of their strength, our defensive position should more than make up the difference. If there are more armies of similar size that we missed joining the battle then. . ." he trailed off ominously.

"I know your race has more warriors at their disposal than that," Jörmundur responded.

"Ever since we received word of the Urgal army to the west, we have been recalling troops from our bordering territories, but that takes time. We will not be able to muster the full strength of our people before we are attacked. Just over two thousand men. If we even had half a week more to prepare we would have over ten thousand, but we don't."

"Why did it take so long to get word to us?" Jörmundur asked, with furrowed brows.

Thirlo answered the question. "The route the Urals are taking is part of an old mining zone that was abandoned when it ran dry, completely uninhabited. The only dwarves that go there are eccentrics that don't wish contact with anyone, or banished criminals. We were lucky we learned about them more than an hour or two before they would be upon us."

"Nobody ever foresaw an army using these routes as a way of attack?" Eragon wondered.

Everyone at the table gave Eragon a look that said they were surprised he had spoken up. Under the scrutiny, Eragon looked like he regretted saying anything at all.

Ajihad came to his defence. "It is a good question. It does look like a massive hole in our security doesn't it?" He had a small self-deprecating smile on his face.

"Not as much as you would think, sir," Thirlo said. He pointed at an area west of _Farthen Dûr._ "The network of caves under the Beor Mounthain is a labyrinth for those that do not know the way. There is a very real chance that the Urgal army will simply get lost, never to be seen again."

"We can't count on that; especially not with how far they have already come," Hrothgar grumbled.

"Not only that," Thirlo continued, "but those particular passages are supposed to be impossible to access from the surface."

"They are old," Orik spoke up for the first time, "it is possible that some of the tunnels have caved in, making them accessible from the surface. You are right though, rider, it is something that we should have seen coming."

"What's done is done," Ajihad stated. He leaned forward on the map and pointed at several lines of different colors that were drawn on the map. "Are these possible routes that the Urgals are taking?"

"Yes," confirmed Thirlo. "Based on their spotted location I made several guesses of their most likely route, depending on how well they know the area. I wasn't exaggerating that the Urgals could simply get lost if they don't know the way. If they do know, however, then those red lines indicate their most likely route. "

"Could we intercept them?" Jörmundur asked.

Helena kept her silence and simply watched the proceedings. It seemed that Hrothgar and Ajihad were both content to mostly let their advisers take the lead and only saying something when they felt they had something to add.

"We could, and we already have," Hirol answered, with grim amusement, "but those will be but small skirmishes meant to take advantage of small chokepoints before falling back. We could do more with them, if we had the time, but we don't. We must stop them here."

"You have already decided on a plan," Jörmundur stated.

"Collapse any tunnel the Urgals can use to get into Tronjheim and _Farthen Dûr, save three near the edge of the flats outside of_ Tronjheim _and channel them there, and so prevent them from bringing their numerical advantage to bare."_

"Why not collapse all the tunnels?" Eragon spoke up again. There was noticeably less surprise this time.

"Then the Urgals will be forced to clear a hole, and we won't be able to predict where they come from."

"This plan seems to rely heavily on wishful thinking," Jörmundur argued. "What if the Urgals don't do exactly what you want, and dig a hole regardless of what we do?"

"It is a weak point in the plan," Hirol admitted, "but time is on our side, and the Urgals must know that as well. If the Urgals take too long, we can mobilize the full might of our armies against them. We are hoping to tempt them with an easy way of attack, even knowing that it will probably be a trap. Knowing Urgals, they might even take that as a challenge and be even more inclined to attack us there."

The council women spoke up next. "Why not simply abandoned Tronjheim and wait until reinforcements arrive?"

The moment the words 'abandon Tronjheim' passed her lips, Helena could see the outrage on Hirol and Thirlo's face; Hrothgar simply looked contemptuous.

"It is because we gave you shelter that we are under attack in the first place!" Hirol snapped. "If we flee from here, then the Urgals take Tronjheim. Even ignoring the sheer humiliation of such a thing, we would be surrendering a defensible position to the monsters, if they don't simply destroy the place. We might never get it back."

"We will stay and fight," Ajihad said calmly, "We will not repay the generosity of the dwarves with cowardice. Beyond that, if the Urgals have thrown their lot in with Galbatorix, will need to face them eventually. If that is so, better to do it from a defensible position with a chance of catching the enemy between two armies if they blunder." He turned to Sabrae. "But your suggestion has merit, and it is why I invited you here. We must evacuate any non-combatants into the surrounding valleys, and further into Surda in the event we are defeated here. I need you to organize this – logistics and all. Rouse whomever you need for this task, but you will only have a token force of warriors to rely on; we can't spare any more. Please recruit Nasuada for this task as well; hopefully, that will placate her when she learns she won't be taking part in the battle."

Sabrae inclined her head. "Of course sir; it will be done. Am I excused?"

"The sooner you begin, the better," Ajihad said, and with that, the woman left the room.

"Do we know who is leading this enemy?" Jörmundur asked.

Hirol was the one who answered. "While we do know the names of the some notorious Urgal war leaders, the short answer is no."

For the first time since they arrived, Arya spoke. "There is a very high probability that the Shade is leading them. Galbatorix would want one of his own subordinates in charge, and Durza is the only one who we know has commanded Urgals in the past."

"If the Shade does show up. . ." Jörmundur trailed off with a meaningful look at Eragon and Helena.

"No!" Arya snapped, who even in her anger seemed to keep her composure. "They are not ready. If he does show up, I will face him. It is my right." After a few seconds of heavy silence, she added, "I would appreciate help, of course."

"Common wisdom holds that one must outnumber and swarm a Shade to defeat them," Hrothgar commented. "All Shades are vicious and cruel, but most are little more than savage beasts who destroy all in their path. It is rare for a Shade to be intelligent or reasonable – reasonable by some standards anyway - to command soldiers like this Durza seems to be able to do. I doubt he will simply consent to being put in a situation where he is both outnumbered and needs to face you."

Arya remained unmoved. "It is believed that a Shade's intelligence rises with his power. We must look for an opportunity." She looked at the dragons behind Eragon and Helena, and addressed them. "A dragon's assistance in particular would be invaluable in this endeavor."

 _'You will have our support,'_ Saphira spoke for both dragons. Godric didn't contradict her.

"That means that we will be there as well," Helena said.

"I know." And her tone indicated that she wasn't pleased by the admission. "I had hoped to not risk you in such a struggle until after your training was done, but we clearly don't have a choice. Come with me once we are done here so we can. . . talk about how best to use your abilities."

 _She means wards,_ Helena guessed.

"Speaking of magic," Ajihad said, guessing at what Ayra had meant by 'abilities', and addressed one of the twins who had both so far remained silent. "Make sure that our magicians are as well rested as they can possibly be once the battle begins. We will need them to face the Urgal magicians."

"The Urgals call them Shamans," the twin said in a tone that indicated he found that funny somehow. "They will be no match for us."

"Urgals can use magic?" Eragon asked. That news came as an unpleasant surprise for both Riders.

"Some can, just like with humans," Ajihad confirmed.

Arya decided to add to that. "While they lack the inherent magical ability of elves, the ratio of magic users amongst the Urgals is actually higher than with Humans or dwarves?"

"Why is that?" Eragon asked.

"I am no expert, but I heard that amongst the Urgals, magic users are encouraged to sire many offspring, so as to increasing the number of magic users they can count on."

Eragon cursed at that bit of news and he wasn't the only one.

"Fortunately for us, Urgals don't have the academic mindset that is needed to excel in magic," Arya continued. "They use it like another hammer instead of a scalpel."

"As interesting as this, we need to get things moving. Helena!" Ajihad addressed her, "From what Arya has told me, you would be particularly useful in helping the dwarves collapse the tunnels."

"Probably, yea," Helena looked at Arya, wondering if she would need to go with her first.

"I only need Eragon for now," Arya answered the unasked question.

 _You can't use our magic anyway, so teaching you would serve no point for now,_ was what Helena suspected Arya meant.

"I have a suggestion," Helena said, and continued after a nod from AIihad. "Give Murtagh the chance to fight in the battle."

"It would be a good way for him to prove himself," Arya backed up her suggestion.

"What if he turns on us?" the single twin asked.

"He cannot use magic, the danger he poses is. . . acceptable," Arya argued.

Ajihad looked to Hrothgar to see if he would object. The king shrugged. "I won't have him fighting in any battalion that I am commanding, but if you want him guarding your back, I won't object."

"We are outnumbered," Jörmundur reminded Ajihad. "This entire battle will be risky. We can't turn aside help because of _maybes._ "

"So be it. I will send someone to inform him of his options."

Helena opened her mouth to offer to do that herself but Ajihad stopped her with a glare. "You have other duties to attend to. If this Murtagh is as trustworthy as you think he is, he won't need you talking him into this." He seemed to square his shoulders. "If there is nothing else, we all have our duties to see to."

xxxxxxxxxx

They all went their separate ways after that. Eragon and Saphira went with Arya while Helena and Godric took to the air above Tronjheim, looking for those Ajihad had said could use her help. If it wasn't immediately obvious, she would ask someone for direction, but that didn't turn out to be necessary. Through Godric's eyes, she spotted a group of dwarves hitting the ground with pickaxes.

Godric landed near the group of startled dwarves. After dismounting and trying to get the mandatory greetings out of the way as fast as possible, she explained why she was there.

They told her there was a tunnel directly underneath them, about four yards deep.

"Alright, everyone clear the area, I got this!" she yelled motioning with her hands to get the group of workers to get out of range. A lot of the dwarves looked excited by that the promise of a magical display.

She herself also moved backwards, making sure that all the dwarves were standing behind her. ' _Reducto_!' she called out in her head. A blast of red light went into the ground and a loud cracking sound could immediately be heard, along with the sound of rocks grinding against each other. The ground slid inwards and only stopped when the ground seemed to have sloped several yards downwards.

Helena crouched low and carefully made her way to the effected area and felt the ground. She scooped up a bit of the previously solid rock and allowed it to flow between her fingers; it had been reduced to mere sand and tiny pebbles.

She turned around and took some pleasure out of the awed looks on the onlookers' faces. She noticed that Godric seemed to echo her feelings.

With her help they managed to completely seal off all tunnels in little over an hour. Most of that time was spent just running from one tunnel to the next; the actual collapsing didn't take any time at all. The only tunnels that hadn't been sealed were the three where they were hoping to fight the Urgals and one exit that was still being used to evacuate all those who weren't going to fight.

Judging by the dark sky above Farthen Dûr, dawn still hadn't arrived yet, but despite that, she could already see groups of people gathering in front of Tronjheim, preparing for their departure. The groups comprised mostly of children, woman, and the elderly.

A lot of them seemed as uncomfortable with her staring at them as she usually was with being stared at, so she looked for something else to occupy her.

She walked over to a group of human soldiers that didn't look too busy. After getting through the pleasantries, again as fast as possible she asked, "Where can I find the armory?"

A few minutes later she found herself standing in front of the Varden's weapon-master's home, which also doubled as the armory. The armory was one of the few houses that stood in the plains outside of Tronjheim, strategically placed right next to the practice fields that were brimming with activity. It also didn't have a roof. _There is no real weather inside Tronjheim, so I guess it doesn't need one._

Naturally, she attracted a lot of attention. Considering the looming presence of Godric right behind her, there was no way for them not to know who she was.

Someone barked at the masses to stop their lollygagging and get back to work before one of them worked up the courage to approach her. Helena was thankful for that

Another minute later she found herself standing in front of the Varden's weapon-master, a muscular man with an unkempt beard.

"Name's Fredric, nice to meet you. Are you going to be in the battle?" He looked down at her small frame. His skepticism seemed to be more out of concern than condescension, so it didn't bother her as much.

"Yes," was her succinct response. She presented him with Brom's staff. "Can you put a spearhead on top of this?"

"Hmm, a bit on the small side for a spear," Brom's staff was higher than she herself was tall. "But with your frame, I suppose it fits." Helena resisted the urge to grit her teeth. "Are you sure you want me to transform that into a tool of war?"

"What's wrong with it?" she asked, more indignant than worried.

"There is nothing _wrong_ with it, quite the opposite actually. Those carvings seem too ornate and well-crafted for you to risk this staff in a real battle. Swords are one thing, but staffs and spears tend to break faster, but they are more easily replaced as well."

"There is no need to worry about that," she said. "I can use magic to reinforce the wood and I will make sure to renew the spell before the battle."

She had charmed the staff to be unbreakable and, now that she mentioned it, made a note to herself to remember to renew it before battle was joined.

And on that note, she made sure to surreptitiously remove the spell now, so that Fredric could actually do what she asked of him.

"Magic ey, well I assume you know what you are doing. Very well then– oh by all means stay and watch if you want. It won't take long."

She follow the man inside where he placed the staff on a table between two metal pieces meant to hold the wood still. She sat down on a stool across from him. After taking the staff's measurements, he took out a device that she guessed was designed to drill a hole. It was made of a large wooden length, a small nail protruding from one end, a clay circle attached to the lower half of the long shaft, a rectangular square bar, also made of clay, crossing the middle. The square bar seemed to capable of moving up and down the length of wood and was connected with fiber wires to the top of the device, the wire seemed to circle around top of the shaft several times.

He balanced the metal tip of the nail on her staff and then grabbed the clay bar. He then pushed it downward. A wooden scratching sound could be heard as the spinning nail pushed against the wood and the wire at the top unwinded as it was stretched. Whenever the clay bar was at the bottom and the wire completely stretched, he pulled the bar back up again, and the wire seemed to spin around the top of the wooden shaft out of its own accord. When the wire was back in its spun state, he pushed down again and the process repeated itself.

If Helena had paid any attention to Vernon Dursley when he talked about his drill-making company, she would have been able to identify the device as a simplistic pump drill, but she hadn't. So, she just watched the device spin in fascination.

"How does the wire rewind itself?" She knew that there was no magic in place here, so how was the wire re-spinning itself?

"The shaft keeps spinning even when I am not exerting pressure. That rewinds it. You just move the handle upwards to allow it," Fredric explained.

Now that it was explained to her it seemed really obvious and she felt silly for having asked the question. She had assumed that the lifting handle was responsible for the rewind, but that wasn't the case.

It was good example that even without modern technology, muggles were smart.

"Will this be your primary weapon?" He didn't pause in his work. "I ask because in the stories most Riders wielded swords."

"My primary weapon is and always will be magic. This is just a fall back." she said.

"Not all that fond of all that mystical mumbo-jumbo mi'self; steel always seemed more reliable, noble and honest to me, but whatever keeps you alive I suppose."

Helena didn't comment. The man had a point – no pun intended – that using magic on someone who couldn't reciprocate in kind wasn't very noble, or. . . well as much as fighting and killing others could ever be noble.

"Any special reason for your choice?" Fredric asked.

"My tutor recommended it for me after I showed little aptitude for the sword," she answered. Would she need to justify her choice of weapon every time it came up?

"Staff and spear does require less training to use effectively, but it also provides less potential for mastery."

"Less training required is good; time is of the essence."

"If your weapon is just a fall back, why not use magic combined with a shield?" he asked curiously.

She had considered it on occasion, though not very seriously. Hold a shield in one hand while using magic with the other sounded like a feasible option, though it sounded very unorthodox, and she didn't want to try something so strange and untested when faced with a big battle.

She told him as much.

"Why not carry more than one weapon?" he asked. "You are a rider are you not? Heavy cavalry usually let their horses carry multiple weapons with them, so they always have the best tool available. Why can't you do the same with your dragon?"

"His name is Godric," she chided him automatically, "and I don't know. As I said, this seems a poor time to experiment." In a fight, you usually had only a split second to response, which meant following your training or gut feeling, both of which would make her reach for a defensive spell rather than some new equipment.

"True enough my lady Rider." He had finished drilling his hole, and now stood up to fetch a spearhead from a shelf. "Do you know how to sharpen the metal point?"

"I'll just use magic for that," she shrugged.

He frowned, but didn't comment. Some may think that she should learn how to do things without magic, but that was like telling a modern-day muggle that they should learn how to live without technology; it just wasn't going to happen. As far as she knew, there was no way that someone could take her magic from her. Magic could only be suppressed under extreme circumstances like in Merope Gaunt's case – and now that her wand core had become a part of her it was even less of a concern, so why bother learning to do without? Hermione would disagree, but unlike her bushy haired friend, Helena had been eager to leave the muggle word behind, fully embrace the wizarding word's way of doing things, and leave her old life in the past.

It didn't take Fredric long to put the spearhead on the staff. He put a metal bar through the hole and the spearhead and then put a thick bolt on the two sides.

He handed her staff/spear back and she couldn't resist swinging it dramatically around herself, ending with the point pointing towards the ground, her hand around the middle, and the shaft behind her back.

"I am sure the Urgals will be terrified of you," Fredric said dryly.

"As they should be," Helena said, puffing up her chest in faux-arrogance. She reapplied the unbreakable charm on her now improved weapon.

That gave her an idea.

"Should I try and charm all the Varden's weapons?" she asked. She wasn't going to hold any skills back in the coming fight. Secrecy was all well and good, but the better she performed, the less causalities their side would have.

"Now, don't you go using your strange magics on other people's weapons without permission!" he said harshly, and then his gaze flicked towards the looming presence Godric above them. His claws were on the walls of the house and his face looking down at them through the roofless ceiling. Helena followed Frederic's gaze. Godric wasn't doing anything particularly scary at the moment – mostly because he knew that she wouldn't like that – but well. . . a dragon was a dragon.

"I don't feel comfortable making such a decision," Fredric amended. "Best you bring up that possibility with Ajihad and those infernal twins of his." He scoffed. "Honestly, how someone like Ajihad can stand to have those two so close, I have no idea."

Right before Helena was about to leave to talk to Ajihad about her idea, Orik stormed into the house. "There you are. I am to take you to Arya and Eragon."

 _Right, that needs to happen too._ She hoped there was enough time. . . oh who was she kidding? Even if Ajihad agreed, even temporarily enchanting all the weapons of the Varden would probably take days.

"Wait!" Fredric stopped them right as she was about to step outside. "Won't you need some armor?"

"That's already been taken care of," Orik said, peaking Helena's interest.

"Have you ever been in a battle like this," Orik asked her as they set a hurried pace that was just short of a jog.

"I have fought in one, more or less," Helena answered. Unlike most of her friends, she hadn't been on the frontlines that often during the battle of Hogwarts. She had spent most of her time running from place to place, trying to find and destroy the final two Horcruxes. None the less, she had some experience with battles that lasted a long time.

"A battle like this could last for hours upon hours, well into the night, possibly even the next day," Orik warned her.

Alright, so she had never fought continuously for _that_ long a time. Still, felt she was better prepared for it than Eragon.

Orik continued to lead her back towards Tronjheim, and if Helena's memory was correct, they were heading towards Arya's room.

She was proven right a few minutes later when she saw the scratches on the wooden frame that Godric and Saphira had left there.

When she and Orik entered, they found Arya and Eragon in a heated discussion.

They both stopped when they noticed the new arrivals.

"Good you are here," Arya spared her an impassive glance, "we were discussing who between Eragon and me is going to be responsible for your wards."

"Does that matter," Orik asked impatiently.

"The one who casts the wards would need to be as close to her as possible; magic becomes more costly with distance."

"So that means Eragon is obviously the best choice, isn't he?" Helena wondered. "With Saphira, he is the only one that can follow me and Godric if we move around the battlefield with speed."

"That's what I have been saying," Eragon said.

"And you are not wrong," Arya said pointedly, "but there are a few other points to consider. _If–"_ and by the amount of emphasis she placed on the word it was a big if "– Godric would be willing to carry me along with his rider, I would be even closer than Eragon and Saphira would be. I would be able to protect her as easily as I can protect myself. Not only that, it would give me a way to quickly move to any part of the battlefield to counter Durza if he were to show himself. I am the only one who is a match for him at present."

To Helena's surprise, Godric seemed to actually be considering it. _'Having an ally with supernatural strength and speed close to you would increase your safety.'_ He told her.

"But on the other hand," Arya continued. "Considering her abilities, it would be best for Helena to stay away from the front lines and attack from a distance. It would also make it harder for any enemy magicians to attack you that way. I on the other hand would be of the most use on the front."

Helena thought about suggesting that Arya just kept shooting with a bow while sitting behind her on Godric's back, but she feared that might be stereotyping again. For all she knew, Arya was much better with a sword than with a bow.

"So what do you think is best then?" Eragon asked.

"I think that you should be the one to support the wards," Arya told him. "I will need all the strength I can save, and in terms of pure energy, you are stronger than me." _Though I am better at using it,_ was left unsaid.

Eragon seemed pleased with that conclusion and he looked to her, showing of his marked hand. "May I?"

"I would like to know what this will protect me from exactly."

"And now we run into another one of the issues when it comes to wards," Arya lectured. "Ideally, we would use the wards to prevent any magic from effecting your body, but even if we could do that, that would also stop any beneficial magic, including healing. If you had cast the wards yourself, you would be able to turn them off, though even then there would be problems if you were unconsciousness and somebody needed to heal you."

"So add a few exceptions," Helena said as if it was obvious, which she thought it was.

"There is more. One cannot simply have a ward make you immune to all magical attacks."

"Why not? Just say: block all magic except for that of myself, Eragon, and Arya." She didn't know all the words for that, but she assumed Arya did.

"There are two problems with your suggestion. One: one cannot use common names like 'Eragon' or 'Arya' in a spell like this. If you want to include the name of a person in a spell, it has to be ones 'true name', but that problem is relatively easy to get around by using pronouns like 'I', 'you', 'she', or they. It is not as safe as using a more specific word or one's true name, but it will do so long as your mind doesn't wander at the wrong moment. More importantly, there is no word for 'magic' in the Ancient Language."

"What?" Helena asked incredulously.

"Well, the word exists but it has been lost." Arya clarified. "Since the Ancient Language has been bound to magic, the name of one is the same as the name for the other. Therefore, you can't just stop all 'magic' with a ward. You can only defend against the specific effects magic might cause."

"Which could be almost anything."

"Yes, and one must be careful not to get too broad in their defense. Let's say you want to stop any object that approaches you at a high speed. Now, if you have a ward with that wording and you fall from a large height, your ward would effectively try to 'stop' the planet. Needless to say, it would kill you instantly."

Did they have time for all these explanations? "Just tell me what it will and won't protect me from," Helena demanded.

Arya sighed in clear disappointment. "It will protect your body from extreme conditions like an abnormally high amount of pressure, electricity, or temperature. It will prevent some of your most important nerves and blood vessels from being severed and vital organs from being too damaged. The magic tries to keep whatever keeps your body alive working."

"It heals?" Almost everything was possible with this magic.

"No. Automatic healing is, again, too dangerous and incredibly costly. It is best to prevent the damage from being inflicted in the first place."

Helena was still confused on how far she could rely on this thing and decided to focus purely on what she considered important. "Does it stop arrows?"

"No. You will have armor for that. If you make a ward to stop the concussive force of an arrow hit, then the one who made the ward will–"

"Does it stop a fire ball?" Helena interrupted.

Arya gave her an annoyed look. "It stops your body from rapidly overheating, yes, but it can still be dangerous. The point is, it will hopefully prevent you from being killed with but a simple word, but the best you can do is still try and avoid any damage in the first place."

"So just do what I did before, except without the fear of un-dodgeble instant death spells?"

"Indeed. Any such attempt will now force an attacker's spell to overcome Eragon's power, which will be more than any common magician can handle, at least on their own. A group of magicians or Durza might still have a chance of overcoming your defenses, especially if you stray too far from Eragon."

"I have a question," Eragon said. Arya nodded at him. "Why doesn't the Shade just cast a ward over his heart? Either the ward protects it, or the magical drain will 'kill' him before his heart is pierced. Either way, it would make him invincible, wouldn't it?"

 _That is a very good question,_ thought Helena.

"That is a very good question," Arya echoed her thoughts. "And the answer is that a Shade is immune to any and all direct magic."

That thought troubled Helena. "There was this one spell that I hoped might work against it."

"Well there is no harm in trying. . ." Arya gave her a sharp look, "so long as there is no harm in trying."

"As I think I mentioned before, my magic doesn't risk harming me in case of failure." _Most of the time._

"Then by all means try if you get the chance. Though if you do end up being present, if and when I fight Durza, I remind you that you need to keep your distance. That goes for both of you."

"I was planning to," Helena agreed.

Eragon seemed more reluctant. "I will try."

"You could be taken hostage otherwise. Also, if I do win, you must create as much distance between you and it as possible. Have you ever wondered why only two people have ever survived killing a Shade."

"No." "I didn't even know that," Eragon and Helena responded respectively. "But I assume it is because they are so powerful," Eragon added.

"You are partly right," Arya said. "While killing a Shade is an enormous feat in and of itself, surviving the aftermath is more difficult still. When a Shade dies, it releases the spirits that possessed it who then try one last time to kill their attacker by throwing all their mental power and malevolence against their enemy. For that reason, I don't want you to be present for such an event."

"But what about you?" Eragon asked, sounding concerned.

Helena reminded herself that Eragon was naturally a nice person and that just because he showed concern for a woman that wasn't her, that was no reason to get jealous.

"I will be fine," Arya said, sounding strangely like Helena in that moment. "I am the only one here who has a chance of surviving such a thing. I have already written some letters to be delivered to Islanzadi in the event of my death. You won't lose the support of the elves because of me, I assure you."

"That was not why I asked," Eragon said pointedly and with a frown on his face.

"It should be," Arya mimicked Eragon's expression. "Victory is all that matters and I am more expendable than you."

Helena opened her mouth to object but Arya silenced her with a glare. Looking on Arya's expression it was clear that nothing she would say would convince her.

"Now then. . ." Arya didn't say anything more as she proceeded to glare at Orik, who had been mostly silent standing in a corner, out of the room.

Orik sighed deeply. "You elves and your qarzûl secrets," he muttered. "I will wait outside until you are done."

 _He really is remarkably dedicated. I would have complained more._

Arya spoke some words that Helena recognized as a spell to prevent eavesdropping and addressed Eragon. "Alright. Use the same words on her that you used on yourself, except with the pronoun of 'ono' for 'you' instead of 'eka' for 'I'. If you can't remember the words, just pause and I will remind you."

Arya did need to help Eragon on several occasions, and no wonder, the spell took several minutes to say in its entirety. Helena understood enough of the words to know just how much detail went into this spell. More attention was put into what it wasn't supposed to block than what it was supposed to block. Furthermore, a sort of safeguard was put in place every few lines to make it very easy to remove all the spells or just small parts of it.

Helena remained silent during the whole process. She felt it every time a new layer of protection was added to her, but the sensation vanished rapidly as she grew accustomed to the feeling and she didn't notice them after a few moments unless she really concentrated. Just like last time, it was like a smell that you became inured to.

"Alright. We are done," Arya said. Eragon's shoulders slumped and he sighed with relief, causing Arya to shoot him a glance. It wasn't a particularly disapproving look, it was just. . . a glance. It was enough, however for Eragon to school his features and straighten his back again. "In the even that you need to remove some of the protections around Helena if the drain becomes too much, warn her first. If that should happen, Helena, come to me immediately."

"Yes, ma'am," Helena did her best impression of a military salute. The slight smile on her face probably subtracted from the image.

Arya simply blinked at her once before telling them to go with Orik.

 _This has to be one of the most stoic individuals I have ever met._ _Or maybe she just smiles so rarely, so that people will work harder to make her smile?_ That last thought was probably just the envy talking, Helena realized.

Helena and Eragon rejoined Orik outside where he took them to back towards the gathering place for the army where they could eat something. "The dining hall has been sealed off along with all of the lower levels, so food is being handed out outside," he said. When they arrived, they found that a pile of dried meat had also been prepared for Godric and Saphira. Eragon and Helena received simple bread and water. Helena was glad of it; receiving the same rations as all the common soldiers made her feel more like she belonged.

Once they were done, Orik led them back towards where she had gone to get her spear upgrade but now a large tent that hadn't been there before had been propped up a few yards away from the roofless house. A pile of metal pieces were lying on the ground next to the tent. A man who stood guard outside saw them and pulled the flaps that served as a sort of door apart to presumably tell whomever was inside that they had visitors.

Both Ajihad and Hrothgar came out of the tent and waited until their group had reached them.

"Good. You made it," Ajihad said curtly. "Hrothgar has a gift for you."

 _A gift?_ Helena wondered. _I didn't think he liked us enough for that._

Some of the confusion must have shown on her face because Hrothgar snorted, though the smile on his face indicated that it was amused and not derisive. "A gift, yes, that is also a weapon. A weapon that I am sure you could put to better use than we can."

 _Ah, practicality._ That explained it.

"That, right there," Hrothgar motioned to the pile of metal plates. "That is dragon armor."

Helena felt a jolt of excitement run through Godric, who now watched the pile of metal with new interest.

"This was sold to us many years ago by a dragon who had outgrown this suit. A dragon is always growing so armoring them is a difficult and costly task. If our estimations are correct this should fit reasonably well for Saphira." Hrothgar's eyes flicked to Godric, correctly guessing that he would be upset by this. "I am sorry, but we only have one pair and it is more Saphira's size than yours."

Godric was at this point somewhat smaller than Saphira. Not only was Saphira older, but according to Brom's lessons, female dragons tended to be slightly larger and more ferocious than their male counterparts.

"I think I may be able to get around that problem," Helena said.

Everyone looked at her quizzically, so in answer she walked over to the pile of metal and strapped leather bands, raised her hand and incanted. "Geminio."Various popping sounds could be heard as a double of every part of the armor suddenly popped into existence.

She turned around and took great joy in Ajihad's and Hrothgar's astonished expression.

"Is that permanent," Ajihad asked, wide-eyed.

"The copy tends to decay over time but it should hold for a day. I can also use my magic to shrink the pieces so that they will fit, along with some other enchantments."

"Won't this exhaust you?" Hrothgar asked; he sounded concerned. "I am no mage, but I know what magic can and can't do."

 _Arya must not have told him the results of her testing._

"No. My magic doesn't work like that."

Hrothgar gave Ajihad a stern look.

"I said her abilities were unusual. I couldn't say anything more without breaking my word to keep her abilities a secret."

"Considering she just displayed her abilities in front of half of the army she can't have considered it _that_ important," Hrothgar retorted.

Helena looked behind her and found that, indeed, several men were observing the scene with interest. These men actually seemed less astonished than Hrothgar and Ajihad were. _Probably because they don't know enough about magic to understand why this isn't supposed to possible._ It was just one more weird and supernatural thing to them.

"We are about to enter a fight for our lives. I am not going to hold anything back at this point just to gain an advantage in a future that won't matter unless we win," she defended.

"A fair point," Hrothgar acknowledged.

"Do you have any idea of the implications that this has," Ajihad said in a low voice. His jaw was tense as if he had to hold himself back from exploding on her. "Half of warfare is supplies and logistics. With this we could. . . this is a huge advantage. I received Arya's report but I don't think I ever really grasped all the implications until now. Can you do the same with money or valuable and tradable gemstones?"

"I could," she mused, "but that would be theft since everything I conjure will decay over time. There are many regulations about what you can conjure up where I come from and this would definitely be considered illegal."

"Still, if we could make sure that all the fake wealth enters the empire in exchange for taking some of their recourses," his voice was soft so that none but those present could hear him whisper the words. There was faint smile on his face as he considered how he could put this ability to use. "I will think on this some more after this battle is done."

"Now that we are on the subject, I might be able to charm some of the weapons and armor of the Varden to be lighter and unbreakable."

"How fast can you do this?" Ajihad asked.

Helena had to pause and think for a moment. Mass producing magic like this was rarely done were she came from. "If you just need a charm temporary charm it takes just a few seconds. It all depends on how fast you can organize all the pieces be brought to me. It would need to be done just before the battle since enchanting something permanently takes a great deal more time and effort, more than we have available."

"I wish we had known about this sooner," Ajihad complained. "Let's start with that dragon armor and then we will see. Your own protection must come first."

After they made sure to separate all the duplicates from the original to avoid the risk of mixing them up, Helena started levitating pieces of dragon armor and asked the group at large where they thought it should go when it wasn't obvious. Eragon, Orik, and surprisingly even Hrothgar and Ajihad, worked together to put all the pieces where they needed to go. A few attendants ran over to help, but Ajihad waved them away, telling them to go help Jörmundur. After every piece, Helena charmed the metal both unbreakable and featherlight, promising herself to reapply the magic just before the battle started. Whenever Godric received a piece, Helena also shrunk the metal to make it a better fit. Together they had both dragons armored in less than half an hour.

 _'How do I look?'_ Godric asked eagerly once they were done. With the exceptions of Godric's wings and lower jaw, all parts of his body were covered by metal to varying degrees. There were holes in the armor to allow the spikes along his neck to poke through. His tale was the lightest protected since there needed to be a lot of interruptions and hinges to not hinder his flying.

He was crouching low to the ground, claws digging into the soil, his teeth showing, and he looked ready to pounce. Helena knew this was purely to show the most intimidating image that he could. At times like these, she was reminded of how young he was.

 _'No matter how scary you try to look, to me you will always be that adorable little hatchling that I used to chase around the forest.'_

She could feel Godric trying to fight back a small wave of pleasant embarrassment. His pride didn't allow for such things.

Saphira was also preening though with slightly less dramatics. She had her front legs outstretched and her wings spread to make herself look bigger.

"We planned to properly outfit both of you as well, of course," Ajihad said, "and I planned to see you," his gaze flicked to Helena, "properly armed as well, though I see you already took care of that. Follow me." He motioned towards the armory and led them inside. Hrothgar excused himself by this point, saying that he needed to see to his men.

Inside she found Fredric the weapon master again. "Been a long time, hasn't it," she said ironically.

"Ha! I should have predicted that you'd be back soon. The order to find you and you're lover something to wear into battle came only minutes after you left."

"But now I am wondering if it will even be necessary," commented Ajihad who stood next to her, giving nobody a chance to comment on the 'lover' part. "How true to its name is this 'unbreakable charm'?"

"As long as the charm isn't directly addressed by an opposing magic user it is completely accurate."

"Best to have some form of protection then, if only so it isn't too obvious what you are doing." He motioned with his hand to Fredric, "Continue."

"Yes sir. Now most armor for important figures such as yourself are all custom made so it fits your form perfectly. It keeps the weight down, ye see? That said, I am sure I will be able to get Eragon something that fits almost as good; his size isn't that unique after all. Helena on the other hand will be more difficult. She could almost pass for a tall male dwarf if it wasn't for how thin she is. I don't think we have anything in her size."

Helena was about to suggest she shrunk something with magic again, but Ajihad spoke first.

"Do you have a padded doublet for her?"

Fredric blinked. "I think so yes. I think we have one lying around that was used to train our youngest recruits. We don't keep those here though."

"Send a runner to fetch one. I doubt such a thing was considered essential enough to be taken with the evacuation."

As they waited for the runner to come back, Eragon donned his armor. He pulled a thick vest over his head that Ajihad said would be similar to what Helena would be wearing. "That vest is actually the most important part of the armor," Fredric commented. "It is almost impossible for an arrow to go through that many layers of linen and it offers decent slashing and bludgeoning protection as well. The downside is that it is very warm. Even in winter, it might start sapping your strength if the battle lasts long enough. It also isn't as durable without the mail that goes with it. It protects you to be sure, but it gets damaged in the process and would need replacing often. That is probably why Ajihad thinks Helena can do without the mail if she can magic it properly." Ajihad nodded at this.

"I lied," Fredric continued as he took three different pieces of headgears from one of the shelves. "The vest isn't the most important part of the armor. The helm is. Engrave this into your mind, Riders, if you only take one piece of armor with you into battle, wear a helmet." It was apparently so important that his head protection consisted of three different pieces. First a leather cap, then mail coif, and finally a gold-and-silver helm that covered Eragon's whole face except for two eye slits and a few holes in the lower sides so he could breathe through it. They had to replace the helm once with a different size when he complained that the eye slit wasn't at the right height for him.

"How do I look?" he asked and his voice was slightly distorted by the helm. It looked somewhat mismatched to her. The helm was something that belonged to someone in full plate, yet the rest of his body was mail. She supposed that the head did merit greater protection.

"I prefer to look at your face, but I like the thought of it being safe even more."

Eragon removed the plate helm, so now his face was surrounded by the mail coif, leaving his facial features visible. His face was red and bashful, like he didn't know what to say.

She heard Ajihad clearing his throat and found him frowning at them.

"Arya has told me that for your magical protections to be effective, you two need to be close together on the battlefield. If that wasn't the case, I would insist you fight in different battalions. I don't object to your relationship on principle, but we can't have you constantly focusing on your partner to see if he or she is okay to the detriment of your own safety. Can you trust each other to look out for themselves without your help?"

 _'They won't need to look out for themselves,'_ Saphira commented. _'They have us.'_

"If there is one thing I know about Godric, it is that he will never allow Helena to get hurt," Eragon said. "He will protect her better than I can."

Helena could tell that Godric was pleased by the assessment and hoped that this indicated that Eragon and he were warming up to each other.

"I feel the same about Saphira," she said.

"I hope that is true. We need your focus to be on the battle and not each other."

Her own armor arrived not long after that, though it didn't look like what she imagined armor to look like. It felt more like a winter jacket than armor. As Fredric had warned, it was warm. They were lucky that winter still hadn't lost his grip on the weather. She also received a helmet just like Eragon. She imaged her outfit must look even more mismatched than that of Eragon, wearing only plate on the head while the rest could pass for casual wear. She shrunk the helmet and put it into her magical pouch. No sense in wearing something so uncomfortable until the battle starts.

"If we had more time to prepare, we would have gotten you something more impressive and befitting of your station, but it will protect you; that's all that matters for now. And on that note, I want no heroics from either of you. If we win this battle but lose one of you, that still counts as a loss. If we look to be losing, then blast your way past one of the collapsed tunnels and flee north towards Du Weldenvarden. Bring Arya with you if you can, but if you can't, just go without her." Ajihad pulled three envelopes out of his pocket and handed them to her. "If the worst should happen, give the first of these to the first elf to intercept you when you travel through the woods, and the other two to Islanzadi when you see her. One is from me, the other from Arya in the event that she doesn't make it."

"I am not sure it is in me to flee, even if we look to be losing." Eragon grimaced.

"Not even to save her," Ajihad motioned towards Helena.

A flash of anger went through Helena as someone once again tried to use her to get Eragon to do something he didn't want to do.

"I am staying," she said in voice the brokered no disagreement.

Ajihad gave her a considering look. "This is only a worst case scenario. We must of course do everything in our power to make sure such a thing isn't necessary. To that end we should discuss how we could best use you. What are your thoughts? Will you fight from dragonback?"

"I will be restricted to fighting with my bow if I do that," Eragon said. "I will be up too high for an Urgal to reach, but I won't be able to reach them either."

"Not all. A Kull could grab you and throw you from your saddle if you are not careful."

"What is a Kull?"

"You don't know? Urgals come in two general sizes. All Urgals are stronger than the average human, but a Kull can grow larger than eight feet tall. They have legs like tree trunks and arms that can rip a man in two."

"I had– have a friend who is eleven feet tall," Helena said idly.

Ajihad gave her a look that said 'explain'.

"He was a half-giant. Though he was one of the nicest people you will ever know, so I don't think he would have much in common with these Kull."

"Indeed not. I understand that Kull are often groomed for leadership and are always trained to fight, so don't expect them to be stupid. I am afraid there will be plenty of Kull; with a force this large it is almost inevitable. They will likely seek you out as the most worthy opponents."

"Lucky us," Eragon mumbled.

"I am not sure if fighting from the air would be a good idea. You would attract Urgal arrows like crows to a corpse," Ajihad warned.

Helena wasn't sure that warning applied to her. If she flew high enough, she could try to rain spells down from the sky while. . . how high could an arrow fly anyway? And how many Urgals would have practice in shooting something that was right above them?

She asked the question.

"If they expect you to be here, which they might, then they might have practiced some, and even if not, they would adjust quickly. As for how high? Well I don't know exactly, but I think it won't be much different from how far an arrow can shoot. Let's say 250 yards. I suppose if you can use magic from such a distance, it would be a viable tactic, but I heard from Arya that your magic needs to be aimed. Could you do so from so far away?"

"Maybe not," Helena admitted. If she could rain down heavy explosions, then that would be something, but she had been warned to never use such anywhere in Farthen Dûr.

 _'And I won't be able to fight at all if we do that,'_ Godric told her, making it clear he would be disappointed by such a thing. If he were human, Helena would imagine him pouting at this moment.

"I will have one of the twins on standby on the top of Tronjheim where he will have a good view of the battle and relay any information through his brother to me. We will use them to communicate with each other. If you see anything unusual or important, you inform him."

Helena grimaced. "We didn't exactly get off on the right foot." She told Ajihad about the twins offer in the library.

Ajihad sighed with a mix of exasperation and tiredness. "That does sound like them. I will order them not to press you for an answer to their offer before the battle. They will act professionally today, I assure you. They know they have to answer to me otherwise and their necks are as much on the line in this battle as anyone else's. Afterwards, well a partnership with the twins is a terrible idea, you were right about that, but improving the quality of our spell casters might have some merit. We will discuss it later, so don't waste any effort thinking on it now."

A small smile tucked at the corner of Ajihad's lips. "You will no doubt be pleased to know that Murtagh has been released from his cell and will be fighting with us this day. You can thank my daughter for convincing him."

"He has agreed to join the Varden?" Eragon asked, he sounded as surprised as Helena felt.

Ajihad's smile disappeared. "He never actually said that, but this is a good start. Report to Jörmundur's battalion. Murtagh will be there too. You'll be able to talk to him before the battle, I am sure."

"Good luck," Eragon said.

Saphira moved her nose a little closer to the talking humans. _'May your metal stick strike true and the wind stay at your back.'_

Godric followed up Saphira. _'We shall show them our hearts in this battle, and we shall show them theirs as we tear them out."_

"I will be disappointed if you die just as I am starting to warm up to you," Helena said, giving him as stern a look as she could, though her 'stern' was often simply called 'cute' by most others.

Ajihad snorted. "Once the battle is over you will be back to trying to bite my head off, no doubt." He looked at them with a surprisingly soft expression. "You four bear a heavy burden. I know the expectations upon you seem daunting, but from what little I have seen, I think you will live up to them all. Stay safe, and remind the world just why the Riders were revered in their time."

xxxxx

The forces of the Varden were divided into two battalions, each positioned in front of one of the three remaining tunnels. A third battalion comprised entirely of dwarfs guarded the third, commanded by Hrothgar. At the exits themselves, cauldrons of hot pitch were prepared to dump on the coming invaders and pitches and stakes were being built to further hinder them.

The three armies were separated by two empty fields over 200 yards wide. Close enough to support each other if needed, but still far enough apart to tell that they were different groups. At the moment, they still looked like a disorganized mess.

"Our sentries will give us some warning before the enemy is here," Orik said in regards to that chaos. "In the meantime, there is no use in worrying ourselves out of our courage. Better our men spent what time remains before the battle talking and japing amongst themselves."

They found Murtagh talking with animated gestures to an excited looking bunch of men. When he saw them, he made his excuses and ran over to them.

"Making friends already?" Eragon commented wryly.

Murtagh said nothing, merely motioning with his head to a secluded area where they would have some measure of privacy. Guessing the intention, both Saphira and Godric lied down next to them, encircling them with their bodies to hide them from view.

"They don't know who I am," Murtagh said. His expression became more guarded when it was just them. Orik was busy getting some men to stand guard over their group so that they wouldn't get swarmed with well-wishers, questions, or people wanting some words of wisdom from them. "All they know is that I traveled alongside you for over a month. They want to hear all the stories of our journeys. I was just telling them how you both fought your way past the entire army at Gil'ead to rescue the fair maiden Arya from the clutches of the evil shade."

"Did you have to do that?" Helena whined piteously.

Murtagh gave her a too cheerful smile. "It was either that or start talking and lying about myself."

"So have you decided to join us then?" Eragon asked.

"Us? I guess you mean the Varden?" He continued after a nod from Eragon. "Maybe. Maybe not. I am still not sure this is the right thing to do, but Urgals are everyone's enemy. There is no moral dilemma with killing them, and if by doing so I get my freedom and the chance to repay some of the debt I owe you, all the better. Besides, if I had refused, Helena would come to look at me with that sad disappointed expression. I wouldn't be able to stand it."

"Prat."

"Well I for one am glad you are here," Eragon said.

"And I am glad to no longer be locked up, so I guess we all win. Now if you will excuse me, I need to go tell the story of how Helena managed to shame a group of bandits into a life of celibate virtue by staring into their eyes." Murtagh made to leave, but Helena stopped him.

"Wait!" Murtagh looked back at her curiously. "Let me improve your armor first."

She laid her hand on his mail shirt and charmed it feather-light and unbreakable, giving Murtagh a brief explanation about what she was doing. She attempted to do the same to his blade, but Murtagh complained about the balance, so she restricted herself to the unbreakable charm. He thanked her, leaped over the end of Saphira's tale and ran back towards the group of soldiers.

She hoped the spells would hold for long enough, but she would try to redo it if given the chance. And on that note, she should probably start using the remaining time to throw some spells around.

She found Arya sitting with her back against a rock, her eyes were closed. _Probably trying to save her energy,_ Helena figured.

Helena walked over to her and used her spells on her after getting her permission. Arya went right back to resting afterwards.

Afterwards she did the same for Orik, who then suggested that she inform Hrothgar and Ajihad of her intentions and do the same for them before the battle. Before she could do so however, there was a commotion with one of the guards that Orik had said to keep too curious soldiers away, a duty that he seemed to be having some trouble with.

"It's alright we know her," she told the beleaguered looking man.

"Well it's about time," Angela the herbalist huffed and strolled towards them. By the armor she was wearing, it was obvious she planned to participate in the battle.

A fact that wasn't lost on Eragon. "You are here?" he sounded somewhat incredulous.

"Of all the questions you could ask me, you ask one that you already know the answer to. Shame on you Eragon. A Rider should know better."

"No, I mean, don't get me wrong, but shouldn't you be. . ." he trailed off.

"With all the rest of the woman, children and wrinkled old people leaving the city?"

Helena decided to help Eragon out before he embarrassed himself further. "She is a magic user Eragon. It is the ultimate force equalizer. I would be astonished if there aren't more female magicians around like her."

"Like me?" Angela sounded offended by being lumped in with the other magic users again. "I am worth more than– how often does one need to multiply an infinitely small number to get anything? Bah doesn't matter! I came to see history being made and I can't do that from the 'safety'–" her lips were pursed and her voice was low mocking tone, making it clear what she thought of that 'safety' "– of the valleys between the Beor Mountains. Besides, when I tell the tale about what happened here, the question of 'were you there?' will inevitably come up. What would I say then? No mister nosy, I was with the other people who couldn't look after themselves. The humiliation! Can you imagine it?"

"Euhh. . ." Helena said, not sure what to say to that. That sounded like a stupid reason to get involved in a large scale battle like this. "Nice equipment," she said for lack of anything better to say. It was true. Angela's armor was an elegant looking piece consisting of several metal plates colored green and black. It looked much better than her own padded shirt. In fact, Helena found herself being somewhat envious of Angela's attire. It even looked to be the right size for her. "Where did you get it?"

"From my own personal possessions recently, and from a grumpy old blacksmith not so recently. As for the blade." Angela twirled her blade between her fingers. It too was unusual; it was comprised of a long wooden shaft with a sword blade attached to each end. "I won it from a dwarven priest in a game of riddles."

"It looks impressive," Eragon commented. "But doesn't the second blade hinder you more than it helps, unless in some very specific circumstances maybe? It doesn't look very practical in this situation, is all."

"It isn't," Angela admitted merrily

"Then why. . .?"

In answer, Angela pointed towards a group of dwarves in the distance who looked to be glowering at her. "Normally only priests are allowed to use these, and they hate the fact that I have one, consider it blasphemous even. Oh, that look on their face!" Angela breathed in deeply through her nose with her eyes closed, an expression of bliss on her face. "It warms the heart it does."

"You would put your life in jeopardy just to annoy some dwarves?"

"I put my life in jeopardy every time I drink my mushroom tea, or try out some new spell, but I am not going to stop doing that either," Angela shrugged.

"That explains so much." Helena shook her head. Though she had never heard of 'mushroom tea', it definitely sounded like something Angela would drink, and probably even invent. "Anyway, do you want me to make your armor and weapon almost weightless and or indestructible?"

"You do realize I will be examining the magic behind this right?" Angela asked with a serious glint in her eyes, though she kept smiling.

"You won't be able to use it yourself."

"That doesn't mean I won't learn anything from it."

Helena simply shrugged. After she was done, she figured she should spend some of her remaining time doing the same for as many people as she could.

It was extremely awkward for her to just walk up to random strangers and ask if she could use magic on their armor. No-one refused. The few magician's amongst the Varden she met seemed especially eager. There was no way she could even do this for a small fraction of the army, but that was no excuse not to try. She was repeatedly warned not to the overwork herself right before the battle, but she said it was no great effort. Every single time she charmed someone's equipment, she tried to imagine that she could have just saved a life. As soon as news of what she was doing spread, Orik helped set up a queue system to make it go more smoothly and so that she wouldn't get swarmed. It soon became really monotonous work. Considering that a certain amount of will was required for her to do any magic, this boringness became more of a problem the longer it went on. She pushed through it, though she had to rethink the warning not to overwork herself. Mass-producing magic like this just wasn't done where she came from. A few notable people were able to jump the queue, like those that passed for officers in the army, including Hrothgar, Jörmundur, and Ajihad themselves. This relieved her, since it saved her the trouble of having to go look for them.

As she was doing this, she noticed that the humans were in general a lot poorer equipped than the dwarves, showing a lot more wear and tear. She chalked this up to the poverty that Ajihad said the Varden suffered from.

Eragon and Saphira had left soon after she started on her task to go, in their own words, 'try and find something useful for them to do'.

After several hours, the risk of impending attack grew too great and everyone was forced to move to their positions so there was no chance of them metaphorically getting caught with their britches down.

Eragon soon found her again. He brought some simple bread and sugar along with two large jugs of water.

"I was told to warn you to make sure to quickly 'do your business–" Helena could practically hear the air quotes "–before the battle. Arya promised she could arrange some privacy for you."

 _We never had to deal with this stuff in the Battle of Hogwarts,_ Helena complained to herself. That battle had happened so fast, there wasn't any time for such thorough preparations. Or perhaps she was simply unaware of it since she only directly participated during the end. It was also the only major battle of its scale of the second blood war. Wizards and witches weren't used to war like that, so there were no 'common wisdom rules' for it like there were here. Standing here among all of these career warriors she felt like there were a hundred unspoken rules that she wasn't aware of.

"I will just pop on over to Tronjheim and back once I finish eating," she decided.

Once she had finished her food consumption and secretion she settled down to wait next to Eragon, who immediately tried to engage her in conversation again.

"Some of the Varden had the idea to piss and shit right outside the exit were the Urgals are going to enter."

 _Men,_ she scoffed internally. "At least you allowed me to finish eating before telling that story," she said dryly.

Eragon looked contrite. "Sorry."

"No, please continue. It is better than waiting and worrying."

Eragon paused for a long moment. "As I was helping some of the Varden with digging a giant trench in front of our line – to help break a charge you see? – I got asked the question why I wasn't with you doing magic, instead of such mundane work."

Helena said nothing.

"I get the feeling, they thought you were more powerful than me, or at least more advanced."

"Are you jealous?" she asked and immediately hoped there was no accusation in her tone.

Eragon paused just a moment too long before replying. "No."

Helena kept silent again, waiting to see if more was coming.

"Well. . . " Eragon began again after several seconds of silence. "I do wish I could use my magic like you do. Indiscriminately protecting people with it without consequences."

Helena still kept silent, but more for not knowing what to say rather than hoping for Eragon to continue.

"Helena I. . ." from the tone of his voice, Helena knew that this was going to be the 'possibly goodbye' part. "If we don't make it out of this alive. . ." From the way Eragon's mouth moved without speaking, it was clear that he hadn't prepared anything.

It jarred her because she had never seriously considered the possibility that she might die here. Maybe she had escaped death so many times that it became the normal assumption. Because well. . . she wouldn't fall before she had even faced Galbatorix himself, surely? She was also better protected than almost anyone else in this army, so even when confronted by it, she considered the chance of her own demise here small.

Helena moved closer, putting her hands on the cold metal of his armor, wishing that she could feel the cloth and skin beneath. "I know. And I love you too." As soon as she said it, she started to wonder if it was true. They had been dating for just over two days now; that couldn't be enough for 'love' could it? The bond she shared with Eragon was still weaker than what she felt for Hermione or even Ron. Bah! She was probably just overthinking it. Apples and oranges and all that.

"And I you." They exchanged a soft kiss and then the moment was over, and their thoughts again turned to the coming danger

Helena and Eragon both tried to get some rest before it started. Tried being the key word. Helena couldn't speak for Eragon, but she knew that she couldn't relax with all this tension in the air.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It was late in the afternoon when the scout came running out of the tunnel, screaming that ' _they'_ were here. Helena was relieved; at least the waiting was over.

"It's about to begin," Orik confirmed what she already suspected.

Eragon did seem to have succeeded in getting some rest if the way his head jerked to sudden alertness as if a history of magic class had just ended was any indication.

The whole battlefield which hitherto had buzzed with nervous chatter grew deadly quiet.

Both Eragon and Helena were positioned at the back of the army. Apparently Ajihad didn't want to risk them in the initial clash of armies. On a dragon's back, their mobility was second to none, so it didn't really matter where they started from. As long as they didn't receive any specific orders via the twins, they had been instructed to just go where they felt they could do the most good.

From her elevated potion on Godric's back, Helena could look over the army, the field of stakes, and into the dark mouths of the tunnels beyond.

The first sign of the Urgals was the soft sound of thousands of voices that acted like one long battle cry becoming louder and louder. Soon, the first of the grey skinned shapes burst out of the tunnel and the cries of courage turned into cries of agony as boiling tar poured down on them.

Helena felt herself momentarily looking away from the sight, but soon the burning Urgals vanished from view as new Urgals overtook them. Every Urgal seemed to be armed to a different degree than the rest, and overall, there equipment seemed much more individualized.

They did not charge immediately with the small column that passed out of the tunnel, instead filling some of the space between the exits and the combined human/dwarven forces. Some of the Varden at the front tried to taunt them into attacking by screaming insults, though with so many voices yelling over each other, it was hard to make out the words.

With a shouted command from Jörmundur, the Varden – Eragon included – used the opportunity to shower the gathering horde with a rain of arrows. The Urgals all seemed to be carrying a shield of some kind, however, and they were able to weather the attack with minimal difficulties.

Helena decided to join the effort and summoned a few rocks from the ground to her hand. Godric reared up, balancing on his hind legs so that Helena could fire over the heads of her own army without, or at least minimal, risk of friendly fire.

She held one of the rocks in her marked hand which she held outstretched towards the organizing Urgals. "Engorgio," she said in terse voice. As the small rock was changing in her hand, she immediately called out her next spell ' _Depulso'._ The rock was blasted from her hand and grew rapidly in size as it flew across the sky in an arc. Out of fear of hitting her own allies she had aimed a little higher than was needed, and the rock hit the back of the gathering force instead of the front. Sadly, after injuring one unfortunate Urgal who was a little too late to jump out of the way, the rock reverted to its original small size when it hit the ground. It wasn't due to any magic on the enemy's part, but her own spell failing as the rocks structure was broken by the impact. The destruction of an object tended to remove the magic of the object. Sometimes. It wasn't an absolute rule.

To address the issue, she added the unbreakable charm to the next rock she launched. She had never quite appreciated just how useful some the more basic charms were. If she did this against another witch or wizard, it wouldn't really matter since a small rock is just as easily deflected as a large one, unless you were talking truly monstrous size, and a simple curse was more effective and clean at any rate, but against a mostly muggle army. . . She wondered if this sort of thing was common before the statute of secrecy.

As she prepared another attack, several of the Varden who were startled by over a ton of solid rock flying only a few yards above their heads, decided to crouch on their feet in fear of her making a mistake.

The next boulder bounced and rolled after hitting the ground and did more damage. While it did seem to cause some destress among the Urgals, there were many of them and it seemed like her stone was only a small pebble thrown into a pool of water. Disruptive sure, but it didn't seem to make any noticeable change. The following boulders did less damage as the Urgals soon began to anticipate her attacks and dodge out of the way of her projectiles with remarkable reflexes.

Once the Urgals had gathered a sizable force, enough to almost equal what the Varden had available, they slowly advanced towards the line of Varden, shields still raised to protect themselves from arrow fire. That surprised her; by their reputation, she would have expected them to charge in with full speed.

The reason for it became clear once a few of the Urgals were brought forth, carrying wooden planks. By their broken edges, she guessed they must have been broken pieces of furniture or something. Once they arrived at the large trench in front of the Varden's line, they threw them down and used them to cross the hazard.

 _They knew about our defenses,_ Helena realized. _They wouldn't have known to prepare for the trench otherwise._ The Varden had hoped that trap would help kill at least a few hundred as they tripped into it during the initial charge. Instead they knew and acted more carefully, gathering forces before committing themselves. That way the trench worked for them since it also prevented the Varden from charging at _them_ as they were still organizing. The trench had been a purely defensive tactic based on the assumption that the Urgals would charge recklessly, as they were known to do.

 _It seems the spy in our midst is still causing trouble._

The clamor of metal on metal had replaced the challenging taunts and Helena pocketed some of her remaining rocks in her clothes; firing them when the Urgals and her own allies were so close was too risky for her comfort.

 _'Then it is time. Brace yourself,'_ Godric called out to her as he crouched low and tensed his hind legs. Helena made sure that her legs were sticking to her saddle with magic. _'Lean forward and hold on. This will be rough.'_

Helena pressed her body and legs against the saddle, grabbed onto two of Godric's spikes with her hand, and mentally informed Godric of her readiness.

Godric pushed himself forward into the air and roared his intentions for all to hear.

Because her face was pressed to the back of Godric's neck, Helena didn't realize that Godric had landed in the middle of the Urgals' ranks until the distinct growling noises that she had come to associate with the horned race came from behind her.

Helena temporarily lost her sense of location as Godric moved with a speed he had never done while she was on him. Her surroundings became a blur as Godric turned and shook and crushed Urgal bones with his movement. All the while Helena sensed Godric's elation at finally coming face to face with one of his enemies. To have a problem in front of him that he could just tear apart without her cautioning him away. Helena heard a roar from behind her and knew that Saphira had joined the fight, but Helena could only catch a brief glimpse of her as she had to focus on keeping her muscles stiff for fear of literally being shaken into an injury. When Godric slowed down enough for her to take stock of her surroundings she noticed that all the Urgals around them had retreated to a safer distance, the only ones still remaining close to them being either dead or dying. The sight of all the broken and bleeding bodies filled her with a quiet horror. She did her best to ignore it.

Just for the record, she raised her hand and shot a stunner at the ranks of Urgals. The one she was aiming at dodged, but that just meant the one behind him got hit instead. As expected, the Urgal was protected and her magic did nothing.

Godric took a step forward and one of the larger Urgals – though not a Kull – gave a command and then they backed away.

 _'Cowards,'_ Godric complained to her.

 _They will melt before him and if Godric gives chase he will be surrounded._ When given a second look, Helena noticed that Godric had only jumped a little into the Urgal ranks and safety was still only a single short jump away. They wouldn't have such safety if they pressed deeper.

They could still probably get away with it – dragons could fly after all – but Helena didn't see a reason to risk it when she could attack from a distance.

She moved her still raised hand towards a group of Urgals who looked to be packed a little tighter together. "Incendio!" she yelled, and a stream of pure-red fire hit the horned creatures. Their flesh sizzled as it burned and the Urgals let out a terrified scream that tore right through the young witch. Her magic was based on intent so when the horror at what she was inflicting hit her, the fire stopped flowing from her hand.

Helena started breathing heavily and irregularly, and she feared she was on the verge of a panic attack when Godric's mind seemed to engulf her. He didn't soothe her, he wasn't in any state of mind to offer that sort of soft comfort at present, but he did offer something else.

After a long moment's hesitation where the world itself seemed to stand still, waiting for her decision, she accepted his offer, and engulfed herself completely in Godric's state of mind. _This is no time for my weakness._ Helena now felt Godric's bloodlust as if it were her own. The sight of the carnage around her no longer filled her with dread but with a sense of satisfaction.

The Urgals in front of them might be unwilling to face them, but unless they wanted to retreat entirely, they would still have to close with the Varden, so Godric moved sideways along the line, and fired a blast of fire via Helena at the Urgals in front of him. Godric couldn't breathe fire himself yet, though he felt he might be close, but through her he could still call on the element of his race.

Outside of combat, Helena had always taken the lead whenever decisions needed to be made. Godric wasn't ignored, per se, but he was content to let her set the course.

When fighting together, it turned out, their roles were reversed. Helena could and had fought in the past, but she wasn't a natural warrior or killer; Godric was.

Right now, she allowed herself to be swept along by his mind and become an instrument of his will the same way he had been hers before this moment. He knew what she was capable of and how she could best use her abilities to help him.

If anyone cared to look, they would find that Helena's pupils had a lizard-like slid to them at that moment.

Godric fell on a group of Urgals that were fighting the Varden to their left, crushing two by stepping on them and letting his massive weight do the rest, and injuring a third by striking out with his jaws like a snake and biting an arm off. The rest soon retreated just as those from before. Helena felt her annoyance increase. Or were those Godric's feelings? It was hard to tell.

"Carpe Retractum!" she yelled at the Urgals who were trying to keep their distance. 'Carpe Retractum' was a bit of an oddity among spells since it required the caster to actually have some physical strength to make use of it. The spell could send ropes of light at a target, capture it, and allow the caster the pull it towards them like a lasso. That last part was where the muscles came in since the spell didn't help with the pull, only the capture. It was a sort of 'Accio Light' and normally only used on small objects and animals. What made it useful in this case was that it didn't use magic directly on the target and was more likely to bypass any wards.

Several translucent ropes of red light shot out of Helena hands. She was able to make a minor alternation to the spell to get the ropes to circle around Godric's torso and neck before they shot forward towards the Urgals. A few managed to dodge or disrupt the spell by slashing at their bonds but three had their bodies encircled.

Godric reared backwards, pulling on the bonds and sending the captured Urgals flying towards him. He grabbed one in his jaws and flung him at least a dozen yards into the air, crushed one with his claws, and allowed Helena to pierce the last one by grabbing her spear which had been secured to his saddle, magically lengthening it and skewering the prone victim through the chest; she immediately returned the spear to its normal size once its work was done. She stuck the spear back to the saddle once she had no immediate use for it. With the way Godric was moving, she thought it better to keep at least one hand either gripping a spike or the edge of the saddle for balance and the other hand was better used to fling spells around, so she came a hand short if she wanted to also keep her mundane weapon.

Seeing that there was no way to safely keep their distance from the rider dragon duo, the Urgals swarmed forward instead.

Helena sent a stream of fire at them and the Urgals either tried to get around it or, in the case of one particularly brave one, raised a shield in front of his face and charging through it. Godric and Helena couldn't help but admire that one's bravery, though that didn't stop Godric from sweeping him aside with his claws.

His sacrifice had bought the others enough time to move in close unimpeded however, and there were now two on either side of Godric. When they came too close with war axes raised, he reared up on his hind legs to protect his wings from being threatened. There was no way to protect a dragon's wings with armor without severely limiting his flying capacities so they became one of the most obvious weak points Godric still had.

Helena saw a good opportunity to try out some of the spell she had prepared for a large battle against a large number of possibly warded opponents. "Titillando! Rictusempra!" Both spells struck home at a different target and they both seemed to have the same effect as they caused their target to spasm uncontrollably with laughter. The sight of two Urgals bursting out laughing in the middle of a battle was surreal for all who saw it.

The Tickling Hex (Titillando) and The Tickling Charm (Rictumsempra) both did the same thing through different means. The Tickling Charm effected the target directly, charming them into laughing uncontrollably, while the Tickling Hex caused purple hands of light (or red in her case) to wrap around the target and start tickling them. Helena had expected for the former to fail and the second to succeed since only one effected the body _directly_ , but it seems the wards weren't as excessive as she had feared.

Godric quickly made short work of the two Urgals who were now in no position to defend themselves, but new Urgals soon took their place, and one brazen one on his other side took the opportunity presented by Godric lowing himself back to the ground to jump on his side, climbing towards Helena.

Godric moved suddenly into a jump, sending the clinging Urgal falling back to the ground. Because of the direction he was pointing in, Godric jumped forward and over the sea of Urgals. He opened his wing and tried to turn back closer to Varden's ranks. The Urgals had predicted that a dragon might want to take to the air, however, and had archers prepared to fire in just such an eventuality. Luckily, Godric had spotted them and so Helena was able to stop the arrows before they could potentially skewer Godric's wings and force him to land amidst a large number of enemies

Once Helena had prevented their potential demise, they took a moment to observe how the battle was going. They were high up enough to get a good picture of their own battalion, but not high enough to get a good view of how well Ajihad's and Hrothgar's group was doing.

Their attention was immediately drawn to Saphira. She was surrounded by Urgals who were jabbing at her with their spears; she seemed to be struggling. Helena was dismayed to not find Eragon on her back; she knew that Eragon had begun the battle mounted there. It didn't take Godric long to spot Eragon a short distance away, fighting beside Murtagh and trying to rejoin Saphira. They also spotted Orik nearby who was swinging a heavy two handed axe at the Urgals, seemingly having no trouble in challenging multiple opponents at the same time. They caught a brief glance of Arya, but she moved so fast amidst the ranks that it was hard to keep track of her. You could follow her progress by following the trail of corpses she left behind though.

When they looked around themselves at the battle as a whole, they noticed that they were doing well so far, especially where Godric or Saphira had recently been, but the Urgals were still pouring through the exit, replenishing their numbers.

Remembering Arya's instructions regarding wards, Godric tilted his wings so he was gliding back towards Saphira and Eragon, Helena raining stunners down on the enemy on the way just to batter against the hostile wards. They landed and fell on a group of Urgals who were threatening Saphira's sides. The wrath of two dragons was too much for the attacking Urgals to handle and they were forced to retreat or perish. A little safe zone was created around the dragons and so Eragon took the opportunity to climb back on Saphira's saddle. The two riders acknowledged each other with a glance. The Varden's army behind them surged forward to take advantage of the destruction Saphira and Godric had wrought, though they gave both dragons a wide birth as they did so. It gave the dragons and riders a brief reprieve from combat however as the Urgals focused their attention on the Varden instead of them, though Helena still took the opportunity to fire spells at the enemy.

 _'Please don't run off by yourself again. We must remain close if my magic is to protect you,'_ Eragon mentally contacted Helena, but it was Godric who responded.

 _'I was never far, and we were ever only a few seconds jump away from you,'_ he said.

Eragon seemed momentarily surprised that Godric had spoken to him, something he rarely did. Godric ignored him and focused on Saphira. _'How bad are those injuries?'_ he asked, referring to the bloody spots were Urgal spears had jabbed at her.

 _'Flea bites,'_ she scoffed dismissively, _'They will not hinder me.'_ Both she and Eragon looked at the battle where the Varden were killing a group of terrified Urgals who were hindered in their ability to defend themselves by their feet spontaneously bursting into a tap-dance, curtesy of Helena. The effect would be hilarious if it wasn't for the killing.

 _'Will you dance with me Saphira,'_ Godric asked, putting himself into a ready pouncing position and sporting a vicious grin with his bloody teeth for all to see.

 _'I will give you the honor,'_ Saphira responded teasingly before leaping forward, followed immediately by Godric.

Together, there seemed to be very little that the Urgals could do to threaten the two dragons, especially with Helena casting spells under Godric's direction to hinder the Urgals by sticking their hooves to the floor with jelly, more spontaneous dance numbers, binding them with ropes, sending a flock of birds to attack them, causing a panic by shrinking or enlarging their horned heads or other such ridiculous effects that no magician had thought to guard against. Helena had spent a good time on the road trying to find just such spells for just such an occasion. Following Godric's direction, fire also became one of her staple spells.

Arya's advice for keeping Helena away from the front lines lay forgotten as Godric decided that Helena would be able to better use her abilities from closer up and that he would be able to protect her. Besides, doing as the elf suggested would require him to keep his distance and sit this battle out again and that wasn't going to happen.

Eragon spent the time on Saphira shooting arrows or deflecting blows from the occasional Urgal who ventured too close to Saphira's side. Once Eragon's quiver ran out, Helena summoned a new one from an Urgal corpse and levitated it to him; something she would repeatedly end up doing whenever Eragon was in danger of running out. He rarely used magic, except in those rare cases where there were too many enemies for him to shoot at once; then he tended to use 'brisingr' to have fire explode in their faces. All in all Helena felt that the battle became very. . . unfair. There were very few moments where Godric and Helena felt that any of them were in actual danger because combined they were just so much stronger and more powerful than their opponents. Any armor an Urgal chose to wear became meaningless in the face of a dragon's massive weight and muscles. It became almost routine for Helena to use some spell to limit mobility or balance and then for Godric and Saphira to take advantage of it to kill them. Eragon focused his attention on the few who managed to get in close enough and Godric's eyes were sharp enough to find any archers before they could fire and direct Helena's attention towards stopping the arrows. This was mostly enough to stop all threats, and when it wasn't they could easily jump back to safety. At this point, the greatest threat to both riders appeared to be getting a whiplash from their dragons' fast movements. Godric and Helena found it amazing that so many Urgals still seemed willing to challenge them after it became clear that doing so would likely result in their deaths with nothing to show for their sacrifice.

From their perspective it seemed as they were easily winning this battle; at least until the twin who served as their means of communication with Ajihad ordered them to go to Hrothgar's part of the army.

Saphira and Godric both rose above the range of arrows and could now see the battle in its entirety. While the part of the battle where they had been was going well, almost having pushed the Urgals back half of the distance back towards the caves, Hrothgar's and Ajihad's section of the battle had been going poorly. The melded mind of Godric and Helena observed that, not only did the Urgals outnumber their forces, they were individually better warriors than the humans or dwarves. Both of the battalions that had fought dragonless were being forced back towards Tronjheim. Godric's first instinct was for Saphira and him to separate so they could go help both armies, but, remembering the rules for her wards, decided against it.

Speaking of which. . . _'Eragon, how much have the enemy magicians been taxing your powers?'_ The red dragon asked.

 _'They haven't,'_ Eragon answered.

Helena and Godric both found that suspicious. According to Arya, the Urgals had more magicians than the Varden so there had to have been some among the Urgals they just fought. So why didn't they engage them with magic?

Remembering Ajihad's instructions to report anything odd to him, they sent their observations to the twins to see what he would make of it.

 _'Count yourselves lucky. It seems Galbatorix still doesn't want you dead,'_ the twin responded. _'My other half is coordinating the efforts against the Urgal shamans and I can assure you that they are here in numbers. Of more interest is the lack of Kull we are facing. Statistically, there should be more of them.'_

Godric and Helena had no further time to think on that mystery as they had reached Hrothgar's beleaguered army and fell on the Urgals in a tempest of claws, jaws, fire, magic, or just plain making use of Godric's massive body weight to slam into the enemy. They could hear Saphira and Eragon doing the same a little ways off. Their arrival seemed to have emboldened the dwarves and they fought with renewed vigor. Godric and Helena briefly caught a glimpse of Hrothgar, but, remembering that there was a third army that would need their help soon, decided that they couldn't take the time to greet or observe him and instead focused on killing as many enemies on this side of the battle while there was time. It was here that they encountered their first Urgal shaman. Unlike the human and dwarven spellcasters who Helena knew were all but forbidden from engaging the enemy in melee to preserve their strength, the Urgal shamans didn't seem to have any such reservations. Helena wouldn't even have known that the Urgal was a spellcaster if the dwarf he was fighting didn't inexplicably seem to go blind, allowing the shaman to decapitate him. Godric rushed towards the shaman with Helena shouting the somewhat silly named incantation ' _Mimblewimble_ _.'_ The shaman tried to cast some spell only to find that his tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth. The Urgal died with his guts having been torn open by Godric's claw, still desperately trying to get some word through his cursed tongue.

It wasn't long until the twin contacted them and proved that their urgency to kill as many Urgals as possible had been the right decision. _'Go assist Ajihad. His army is breaking down.'_

Godric wasted no time in taking to the air, ignoring the last few Urgals that Helena had floating in the air by their ankles. Helena looked back with her own eyes at Hrothgar's army and noticed that their brief assistance had allowed the dwarves to – if not regain the ground they had lost – at least make a structured line of defense again. Behind them, Helena saw Saphira flying after them. They didn't spent any time rising above archer range, instead making a beeline towards Ajihad's army. They soon discovered that 'breaking down' meant that a large part of the battle-lines had, and were, dissolving; a large melee now took place instead. That was bad, considering that Urgals seemed to favor individual combat, but considering that Godric and Helena had assumed 'breaking down' meant 'being routed', they simply felt relief that the Varden were still putting up a fight.

There were more dead here on both sides than there had been on the previous battlefields. Seeing a broken Urgal body was different than seeing the same done to humans who looked like her, and would have normally sent Helena retching, but in her current state, it barely warranted a glance.

Godric landed on top of an Urgal who had previously been locking shields with a human that Helena didn't recognize, Saphira joining them only a moment later, but before they could go and search for new opponents, the twin's voice called out to them again.

 _'Ajihad commands you to not just fight, but lead! Inspire them!'_

Eragon and Helena shared a glance and the witch pointed at Eragon's throat. ' _Sonorus,'_ she intoned.

"Your voice has been amplified!" she yelled to be heard over the clamor of battle. Considering that she was constantly chanting spells, amplifying her own voice did not seem wise.

It did gave Godric an idea however, so at his direction Helena put her hand on his neck and used the same spell again. Godric reared up and roared so load that the earth shook. Helena immediately berated Godric for his actions as she briefly lost control of her body as her head was spinning dizzily and her ears were ringing. She remembered that Orik specifically told them not to cause any earthquakes in _Farthen Dûr._

It did seem to have some positive effects as all around them the fighting had briefly stopped as warriors on all sides froze with primal fear. The pause in the fighting was long enough for Helena to regain her bearings. She first removed the spell from Godric and then sent large sparks of light into the air.

 _"To me Varden! To me!"_ she yelled. Considering the silence that had taken place right after Godric's display, she was heard for over a long distance, even magic to aid her.

 _"To me! To me!'_ Eragon echoed her in his amplified voice, though it paled in comparison to what Godric had displayed.

That finally seemed to snap the snap everyone out of their stupor and those that could soon rushed to their position, Saphira and Godric making short work of any individual Urgals that tried to chase them. They soon had a sizable collection of troops following after them and cheering.

 _'Get them back into formation!'_ the twin demanded. _'Your goal is to shore up that army so it can look after themselves, not have them act as your personal cheering brigade!'_

Neither Helena nor Eragon liked the twin's tone or his voice in general, but it was good advice. Soon Eragon had them again forming a line. They led them to a section of the army that still held strong, even before they had arrived, the reason for which soon became apparent as they saw Ajihad himself fighting at the front, shouting challenges to his enemies and encouragements to his comrades.

The two groups merged and they once again had something resembling a proper formation going, with every man covering the flanks and backs of every other man. Seeing that the immediate threat of defeat had passed, Ajihad made his way to Eragon and Saphira. Godric and Saphira were close enough, and Ajihad spoke loudly enough so that they could hear what was being said.

"You came just in time. I asked Jörmundur to send some of his troops this way. I'd appreciate it if you would stick around until they arrived."

"I am glad we got here in time," Eragon responded, still with his amplified voice. "I wish we had known sooner that you were struggling."

Helena removed the Amplifying Charm from him with a quick _'_ _Quietus'_ now that she saw it wasn't needed anymore.

"We had hoped you might ravage the force opposing Jörmundur enough to break them, allowing him to take both of the other Urgal armies from the sides. Alas, these creatures don't lack for courage. By all rights they should have broken after losing so many. As it is, with you helping us, we seem to be perfectly matched. If this goes on, I fear both sides will cut the other to pieces, which might be exactly what Galbatorix wants. Maximum casualties on both sides."

There was no more time for talk as a nine foot tall Kull tried to bash Ajihad's skull in with a two handed sword that was more a metal club than a blade. Helena was able the knock the blade out of the Urgal's hand with a disarming charm, but it proved to have been unnecessary when Ajihad jumped to the side to dodge the very blow that Helena had averted. The Kull tried to grab Ajihad with a gauntleted fist, but the Varden leader surprised the Kull by jumping forward and stabbed the large Urgal in the face. Godric directed Helena's attention back towards her own battle and she lost sight of Ajihad.

Helena and Eragon planned to follow Ajihad's request and stick around long enough for Jörmundur's reinforcements to arrive, but the twin told them go support Hrothgar again before that happened.

The battle continued as Godric and Saphira jumped from army to army, going wherever they were most needed. Eventually they even had to go back and support Jörmundur after going so long without dragon support. It felt as if the dragons and their riders were trying to prevent a barrel of ale with three holes it in from spilling by blocking the holes with their fingers; except in this analogy they only had one finger. Godric and Helena lost track of time as the battle continued, until at one point they looked up and noticed that night had fallen without either of them having noticed.

It was during one their rare visits to Jörmundur that the twin contacted them for a different task. _'There are loud noises coming under Tronjheim. I suspect that the Urgals are trying to dig their way up to the city. We need someone to collapse any tunnels they are excavating.'_

 _'What if it is a trap?'_ she asked.

 _'It's possible,'_ he admitted, _'but if you don't do this, the Urgals might take Tronjheim and strike from there. I know that you are an amateur when it comes to large scale battles, but I hope I don't need to tell you what happens when an army is surrounded from all sides. Take Arya with you for safety._

"I'll go," Eragon shouted to her from where he was fighting on Saphira several yards away. "You can do more good here."

 _'The wards. . .'_ Godric protested.

"Haven't been used since this battle started," Eragon finished curtly. "You don't need me here, and you can get teleport to me if needed."

"Or I can apparate to the tunnels and be out in but a few seconds," she retorted.

Eragon made a frustrated growling sound from the back of his throat. "We can't stay to delay and argue about this and I can't stop you. I guess we'll both go."

"I don't know where you are going," Arya spoke up, and if Helena didn't know better, she would have thought the elf had apparated with how suddenly she appeared before them seemingly out of nowhere. "But if you are leaving, I am going with you."

"We were told to bring you regardless, though I am glad we don't need to look for you," Eragon said before giving his hand for her to climb onto Saphira's back; a hand she ignored as she climbed smoothly into Saphira's saddle behind Eragon without any help.

They made several long jumps, staying close to the ground, until they reached one of Tronjheim's four main gates. Unfortunately, the gate was closed for the first time since she could remember.

Helena tried alohomora but it had no effect. "The door must be barred or something."

"Destroy it?" Arya suggested.

 _The dwarves will just have to live with it._ "Bombarda!" The spell hit the large door and seemed to do nothing. "It's not working."

 _'This is getting more suspicious by the moment,'_ Godric complained and Helena didn't disagree.

"But we have to do something!" Eragon said impatiently.

 _Every second we delay is another one that the Urgals can use to take over Tronjheim. This is a bad, and it will only get worse the longer we wait._ Helena got an idea. She knew that it wasn't a good idea, but it was an idea.

"I'll get us there," she said and jumped from Godric's back. "Arya, grab my hand." Since this was probably a trap, she decided that the fewer people went, the better. Besides, though she disliked admitting it, Arya was both more capable and, by her own words, more expendable.

 _'Helena don't!'_ Godric protested, even as Arya jumped from Saphira and grabbed her hand. Helena planned to apparate in the middle of Tronheim's great chamber. From there went two tunnels which Helena knew led to a network of underground roads, but if she could just seal those two, she hoped to seal off all of Tronheim's lower levels from the upper levels.

Eragon seemed to have grasped her intentions as well. "I don't know exactly what you are planning but –"

Helena didn't hear what else Eragon was going to say as her world spun into the familiar feeling of apparition. She managed to hit the ground with her feet, but before she could even take stock of her surroundings, a gauntleted first punched her in the gut. Helena would have collapsed to her knees if a Kull didn't lift and hold her up by her right forearm; her captor was so tall that her feet were dangling several inches above the ground. She started to struggle and something cold pressed against her wrist. "If I see that hand of yours glowing, I will cut it off," a guttural voice said from behind her; it was the first time she had heard an Urgal speak in English. She looked up and found a knife poised to remove her marked hand.

The mystery of where most of the Urgal Kull were was answered as large eight-feet-tall horned creatures guarded all three exits out of the main chamber. Normally there were four exits, but the two underground tunnels had been collapsed before the battle, though one of those had been dug open again. More Urgals were still pouring out of the one open underground tunnel and spreading outward, some going up through the endless staircase, some running through one of the two main entrances from which you could access all of Tronjheim's ground level.

That wasn't the worst of it though; Durza himself stood in front of her, fully armored and with sword in hand, giving her a disappointed look. "That was easier than I expected," he said drolly. "I would have at least expected you to jump to a point that was inconspicuous, not the main hall. Don't even bother trying to teleport out; I made it so you can get in but not out. Sad that your male counter–" whatever else he was going to say was cut short as the shade brought his blade up to deflect Arya's strike. Durza moved backwards, holding his sword close to his body and a pleased smile appeared on his face. "At least you returned my favorite prisoner to me, and with you as our captive, I am sure we can get. . . Eragon was it? I am sure we can get him to surrender peacefully, or at least launch a doomed rescue where we can capture him."

A dead Urgal was lying in a pool of his own blood not far from where Helena was left dangling. She thought he must have tried to capture Arya like what had happened to Helena, but the elf's balance and reflexes were clearly better than the witch's.

Helena heard a slam from far behind her; it was the sound of heavy metal colliding with metal. She suspected that both Godric and Saphira were using their armored bodies as battering-rams to hopefully break through the door. _'Stupid! Stupid girl!'_ Godric shouted at her. _'Stay alive until I get there.'_ The sense of bloodlust that she had felt ever since the beginning of the battle was slowly leaving her now that she was separated from Godric.

"Enough," Arya snarled, and there was nothing of her usual composure on her face. With a cry of rage she lunged forward towards Durza.

This was the first time that Helena saw what a true sword fight between two supernaturally strong and fast beings was like and the sight was mesmerizing.

Their swords flashed like lightning; you could hear the sounds of it, but the blades moved too fast for the eye to follow. Their feet moved and changed directions so fast that it should be impossible for them not to slide over the ground as if it was ice due to a lack of grip, yet they did. The Urgals didn't interfere with the fight; they seemed just as taken with the spectacle as she was, if a lot more enthusiastic about it with the way they shouted in their strange language. Helena caught only brief glimpses of the facial expression of the two combatants, but what she did see wasn't encouraging.

Durza had a mocking smile on his face while Arya's expression was contorted in one of frantic fury. Helena knew enough about combat to know that – even without the cycle of positive reinforcement that her magic gave her – adding anger to your fighting was a chancy gamble at best. It enhanced your strength and stamina to be sure, but it also made you sloppy and predictable.

After one particular clash of swords, Helena noticed a lock of Arya's black hair falling towards the ground, and knew that the elven princesses had just come very close to having her head shopped off. Helena suddenly remembered that even if Arya could have defeated Durza if she was at in top form, the Shade was fresh and at his best while Arya had just spend who knows how many hours fighting Urgals, and that was ignoring the fact that she only had three days to recover from a week long coma after getting tortured for a month. There was no way she could win this without help.

She tried to think of a way to escape her captor without the telltale sign of magic on her _gedwëy ignasia_ betraying that she was about to try something. She knew of no spells that didn't make her hand glow red; even spells that were normally colorless were no exception.

Except maybe her Animagus transformation? She wasn't sure about that one; she had never really payed attention to her hand during that process. _'Don't try anything else stupid,'_ Godric instructed, _'Not until I get there.'_

'They will use me as a hostage if I don't get free first,' she pointed out.

 _'I will figure something out,'_ he said, and then he focused all his attention back on breaking down the door with Saphira.

 _'Only if Arya can hold off Durza for long enough.'_ Even as she thought it, there was a metallic snapping sound, and a metal shard flew spinning through the air. Everyone present looked at Arya's sword which had broken at about the middle of the blade. Arya tried to lunge forward with the broken sword, but Durza simply stepped into the blow and it bounced of his armor, unable to penetrate without the pointy end of the blade. _'We should have given her Za'roc,'_ Helena thought, angry at herself for the oversight. Or she could have renewed the unbreakable charms on the blade since it had clearly expired.

Durza sent Arya flying to the floor with a punch to the jaw, a trail of blood flying from her mouth and making a red line on the marble floor. Helena thought she could see a teeth bouncing and rolling over the floor.

"Now that that is settled," Durza said, casually patting and brushing his armor as if to wipe away the dirt. "We should wait until the other Rider and the dragons get here." He gave Helena a curious look. "I need you alive to keep the others docile, but I don't need you whole." His gaze drifted upwards to look at her captor's face. "Cut her hand off," he ordered.

She froze as a jolt of pure terror washed over her. All of her magic wasn't focused on her hand, but without it she wouldn't have a focus; without it she was nothing.

The air exploded above her.

The Kull that was holding her released her as a blast of wind knocked both of them of their feet. Helena rolled with the blast to hopefully get some distance on her foes.

Godric had appeared in the air above them in a bang of twisted space that was unmistakable to her as anything other than apparition, if a more violent version of it due to sheer size.

Godric fell down, crushing two Urgals in the process; the one that had been holding her amongst them. Helena was almost sure that if she hadn't moved from her spot when she got the chance, she would have been crushed as well; she doubted Godric's fall had been all that controlled. Right now she was positioned just to the side of him, right under his wings.

The Shade stood farther away from them now, gritting his teeth in frustration; either having been blown away or intentionally created some distance, Helena wasn't sure.

Godric reared up his neck and there was a deep rumbling sound from deep in his belly. Helena recognized the movement and sound as that which proceeded a wyvern breathing fire. Durza seemed to recognize it too since he raised his hand in front of him.

"Skölir edtha fra brisingr!" he cried, and Helena was able to translate the spell as 'shield me from fire!'.

Godric's head came down, his jaw opened wide, and a torrent of green, yellow, red and brown sludge shot forward as her dragon partner vomited the contends of his stomach out in front of him.

The room was deathly still as everyone looked at Durza. He stood frozen, his arm still outstretched in front of him. He was absolutely covered in bile. Drops of the disgusting liquid fell from his chin and his outstretched elbow and any other part of his body that was pointed at the ground, making soft dripping sounds on the floor.

Helena used the brief pause in the fighting to quickly reapply her unbreakable charms both to her own equipment and Godric's armor. _'Don't worry about the vomiting Godric,'_ she tried to reassure him. The whole absurdity of the situation made the witch feel strangely calm. _'It happens to the best of us after our first apparition. I've seen it dozens of times.'_

 _'I doubt I will be able to replicate the feat,'_ he said without taking his eyes from the foe in front of him.

The smell of vomit washed over her and nearly made Helena gag, but she was wary of provoking a reaction by using magic to get rid of it.

Helena scanned the room until her eyes fell on Arya. The blast had rolled her several yards away from where she had fallen. She had pushed her face from the ground using her elbow as support. Helena had a good view of the elf's bloodied face from where she herself was lying. Arya was looking at Durza's sorry state as if she had never seen something so beautiful in her entire life.

Durza finally lowered his hand. He seemed to calm himself as he breathed in deeply through his nose. Then his eyes crinkled and an almost angelic smile appeared on his face, yet he suddenly looked scarier than he ever had before. "Galbatorix is going to so disappointment by what I am about to do."

 _'We will need Saphira. See if you can open the door from here,'_ Godric ordered.

 _'I am not–'_ she began but was interrupted.

 _'Now Helena!'_ and for the first time since she could remember, Godric sounded legitimately furious with her. It was enough for her to turn around, transform into her husky form and run towards the gate. At the same time, Durza jumped forward towards her only to be have to jump backwards to avoid getting ripped apart by Godric. "Stop her!" he yelled to his Kull followers.

Dog Helena was able to run through the legs of two Kull before they realized what was happening. Arya needed no prompting to follow her, going from a prone position to a full on sprint in an instant. Helena briefly switched to human form so she could see more than thirty feet in front of her and look at the gate. She could hear that Saphira was still pounding at the door, making it shake, but it had been barricaded by several thick wooden bars. She also took the opportunity to take out and throw her own spear at Arya who had already caught up with her. _She has more need of a weapon than I do._ Helena fired off a bombarda at the wooden barricade – just in case it wasn't protected like the gate was – and turned back into a dog so she could better evade the Kull who were coming to block her path.

She saw Arya get past one by feinting which way she would try to dodge, and Helena was able to evade a kick from that very same one.

The next one Arya was able to kill by piercing his throat, all without pausing her stride. Behind her, Helena could hear the whooshing of air as Godric tried to strike at Durza and the clash of metal on metal as Durza's blade failed to pierce Godric's armor.

Considering the lack of explosion coming from the gate, her spell must have failed.

There were five more Kull who stood between them and the gate, and they worked together by standing shoulder to shoulder.

Seeing that they wouldn't just be able to run past these, Helena briefly turned back to human. "Tarantallegra!" She had found out throughout the battle outside that if the number of enemies were low enough, and she could see them as a single group of people – something that was easy to do in this case – she could sometimes affect all of them by hitting only one of them.

As soon as her spell hit, the Urgals cried out in dismay as they were forced to squat low, put their firsts against their midsections, and start kicking the air in unison like in a Russian folk dance.

 _It's amazing how useful the_ _Dancing Feet Spell_ _has proven to be tonight._

Arya didn't slow down to kill them, instead throwing the spear into the air before putting her hands on the shoulders of one of the Kull and pushing herself upwards to fly over his head, catching the spear back in her hand before it touched the ground.

Helena just went under their legs again. The dance kicking made it risky, but it was set to a predictable rhythm.

When Helena arrived at the door, Arya was already busy trying to remove the wooden bars from the metal hooks that were built into the wall. These metal hooks, she knew, had already been present before the Urgals arrived, built so that defenders could barricade themselves in. She wondered if it were even the Urgals who had barricaded the door and not the Varden to make sure no one could get in while they were out on the field.

The bars looked too heavy for her to lift. Out of habit, she reached out to try and lift the things with magic, but found herself blocked again. Helena took out one of the small rocks that she had picked up back when the battle started, enlarged it, and then proceeded to levitate and ram it against the wooden obstructions. Arya stood watch after she noticed that Helena could do this more effectively than she could. When there was only one bar left that hadn't been reduced to splinters, it broke apart on its own when Saphira's ramming on the other side became too much.

 _'Get on!'_ Saphira commanded angrily at them. Arya jumped on first with her usual supernatural athletics and she then gave a hand for Helena to use to pull herself up. Eragon turned to face them in the saddle; he looked pale.

 _'He tried to open the door with magic,'_ Saphira offered as a way of explanation.

 _"Did you at least not make it a 'succeed or die' kind of spell?"_ Arya asked pleadingly.

Eragon didn't respond.

Helena sighed. "You and I are made for each other." She put her hand on Saphira's armor and silently applied what had become her standard buff spell.

Eragon gave a weak chuckle. "Hold on to something," he said. Helena stuck her pants to the saddle and wrapped her arms around Arya, who did the same to Eragon.

Saphira shot forward towards the center hall. She paid no more heed to the Urgals she bowled over on her way than she would to a flower, trampled during a landing. She arrived where Godric and Durza were fighting in a matter of second.

The fight between Durza and Godric looked like a very dangerous cat and mouse game. With Godric being the cat. Durza knew that if he allowed Godric to match him strength for strength he was done for. Despite that, Godric's wing had been cut near the outer wing bone while Durza still looked unharmed.

'Get off,' Saphira demanded. 'Three passengers is too heavy for me to fight unhindered.'

Arya stood up in the saddle and jumped off. Helena briefly went husky and jumped from the saddle to Saphira's hind legs to the ground before reverting the transformation.

"Let's focus on preventing any Urgal reinforcements from helping," Arya suggested, and Helena saw that the elf indeed had one of her teeth knocked out. "Leave Durza to the dragons."

Helena nodded. It was unlikely that Godric or Saphira could be precise enough to pierce the Shade's heart, but at this point she would take a partial victory of Durza disappearing again.

She pointed her open palm at the dug open tunnel exits. "Reducto." The spell hit a point just above the cave and it collapsed again.

"It wouldn't take them long to dig their way through that, but it will do," Arya judged, and then looked at fight. It hadn't yet been ten seconds, but it was clear that Durza was having trouble evading two dragons at the same time. He had his pale sword moving between pointing at Godric and Saphira's heads. Godric pounced, and when Durza dodged the left, Saphira went after him. Durza pushed himself off the ground and half jumped half fell even further to the left. He cursed and fled up the spiral staircase.

"He is running away," Helena said disbelievingly.

"He knows he is outmatched," Arya said, giving Helena back her spear and picking up a sword from one of the downed Kull, which to him had probably been no more than a dagger.

Above them, Eragon was shouting taunts at the Shade as he continued to run up the stairs that hugged the circular walls. Saphira and Godric were using some of the archways that connected various hallways on opposite sides of Tronjheim as landing points to continue to chase after Durza. Soon the dragons found a point where one of the archways crossed the staircase and blocked the Shade's path.

"We've got him," Helena said.

"There are doors all along the stairs where he can disappear into one of Tronjheim's upper levels, but yes, we won," Arya sighed and smiled with relief and satisfaction.

As if he had heard them and wanted to prove them fools, Durza yelled. "Now!"

The sound of multiple explosion drew the eyes of all present to the top of Tronjheim. It actually took Arya yelling "Run!" with true fear in her voice for Helena to realize what was happening. Isidar Mithrim – a gemstone four hundred feet in diameter – was falling towards them. When it encountered its first stone archways, the stone shattered without slowing down the gemstone, adding to the debris. After that, they could hear another stone archway shattering every few seconds. Arya pulled Helena to her feet and started pulling her away, but it didn't look like they were going to make it. Helena stopped and pointed at the gemstone. "Arresto Momentum." Her spell didn't seem to have any noticeable effects. _It's too large,_ she thought. The gemstone reached Godric and Saphira and then they were falling as well. Durza had pressed himself to the edge of the room to avoid the danger.

 _'Not enough time,'_ Helena realized as she had only seconds remaining before over ten tons of gemstone would squash them. Helena put her hands on the ground at the same that Arya pointed at Eragon.

"Reducto" and "vëoht" They both cried.

The floor fell away beneath them.

xxxxxxxx

"You have to get up!"

Helena felt someone shaking her, knowing that she had lost consciousness. It was a feeling she had become annoyingly familiar with. She opened her eyes. Dust scattered the light coming from lanterns, making it very hard to see anything. She knew that they must have survived the falling gemstone, but her last moments were fussy.

"You're alright," Eragon beamed as he looked down from beside her. "Thank the stars," Helena could hear Arya whisper weakly from right beside her.

Helena's head turned to look at Arya, surprised at how faint she had sounded. One of the elf's legs was bent in an unnatural angle, there was blood on the side of her head, and there was hardly any part of her skin that didn't look red; luckily, it was the red of a skin newly made.

"What happened?" the witch asked as she crawled upright.

"I saw it happen. She broke your fall with her own body. I used magic to keep her alive, but I can't do more," Eragon answered to Helena's dismay; Arya had been their best combatant not counting the dragons. Speaking of which. . .

"Where is Godric? And Saphira?" She knew they weren't dead; she would have known of Godric was gone.

 _'I am okay, as is Saphira, but we are trapped,'_ Godric told her. _'The armor you charmed unbreakable saved our lives.'_

"Saphira is alright," Eragon answered, unnecessarily now.

"Where are we?" she asked.

"Look there," Eragon pointed.

Helena followed his finger and found herself staring at Hrothgar's throne.

Helena waved her hand. "Ventus." A gust of air spiraled outward from their position and the dust was swept away. She could now see all the statues of kings, sitting on their stone thrones, neatly lined up in two rows. She saw the forest of stalagmites surrounding the outer part of the room. The ground was littered with shattered pieces of stalactites who had fallen from the ceiling. Some of the lanterns that hung from the wall and ceiling had broken lose and had fallen to the ground. Above them was a deep hole – almost more a tunnel – about three yards in diameter and ten yards deep; at the end she could see the red sheen of where the ruby rose would have crushed them if she had been a second too late.

"How long have we been here?"

"A couple of minutes; I am not sure," Eragon answered.

"You can't stay here," Arya said hoarsely, trying to sit up straight by leaning against Hrothgar's throne. "Durza is still out there."

"You can't move," Eragon pointed out.

The look Arya gave both riders said what she thought of that complaint.

"We can't leave you here," Eragon said stubbornly, and this time Helena didn't feel a spike of annoyance at the concern Eragon showed; Helena was in full agreement with him.

"Don't waste your energy arguing for something you know we won't do," Helena added when Arya opened her mouth to respond. "We'll keep you safe."

"Morons," Arya slurred.

Helena had the oddest feeling that they had just become friends.

"I can seal and protect the door," Helena said. "We can hold them of indefinitely."

"No," Eragon said firmly, at her questioning look he continued. "If they can't reach us, they will go after Saphira and Godric, who can't defend themselves at the moment. Besides, our mission hasn't changed. If we stay locked up in here then the Urgals take Tronjheim, and the Varden will be surrounded." He swallowed and looked away stubbornly. "I am done with running and hiding."

The sound of heavy footsteps could be heard just outside the door.

 _Sorry Ajihad, but we are not running._ "Alright then," she agreed. "Besides, there is one thing I still want to try."

Helena took a deep breath and remembered how Eragon risked his life to open the front door to Tronjheim, how Arya did all within her power to protect both Eragon and herself, how she herself was willing to jump right into a possible trap in order to protect a group of strangers that were fighting outside. Many of these actions had been idiotic, she knew, but she also believed that foolhardiness didn't, or shouldn't, take away from an act's inherent nobility and heroism. It was still something to be proud of.

The door flew open and a dozen kull moved into the throne room, Durza calmly walking in after them.

 _'Godric, be ready.'_ "Expecto Patronum," she yelled, and a dog of translucent silver light sprung from her hand and ran towards the enemy. Helena felt her head grow light with euphoria, but Godric was able to pull her emotions back to normality within seconds. One of the Kull swung a giant great sword that no normal man could lift at the dog and it passed right through the translucent canine, nearly causing the Kull to fall when the resistance he was counting on never came. When her patronus reached Durza, something unprecedented happened. Durza kicked and her patronus was sent flying through the air, yammering piteously.

"That's not supposed to happen," Helena said numbly. A patronus either did nothing or repelled an enemy, it shouldn't be able to interact with the physical realm.

"Get them," Durza hissed, apparently willing to stand back and watch his minions do the fighting for him.

 _"_ Tarantallegra _,"_ she tried, but her spell hit the enemy without any apparent effect. _It seems Durza improved their protection._

Arya tried to stand up, but her one good leg couldn't support her weight and she fell back down with a pained yell.

Eragon stepped forward, _Zar_ _'_ _roc_ in one hand, a shield in the other

" _Titillando,"_ she tried, and the one Kull she hit did have translucent hands of red light tickling him all over, but he fought through the distraction and continued to charge, and then there was no more time. Eragon deflected an axe with his shield, twisted around one Urgal so he kept his back to one of the stone statues and the forest of stalagmites so as to not be surrounded from all sides. The next Kull to challenge him seemed to suddenly go mad as he clutched his head like he had the worst case of migraines ever. A short glance at Arya who had her eyes closed and a focused expression on her face let Helena know who was most likely the culprit behind that. Eragon was able to pierce the Kull through the heart, Za'roc all but ignoring the armor of iron as it went through. Arya gasped and clutched her own heart. Eragon was able to cut deeply into the arm of a third Kull, but there were obviously too many for him to keep this up.

Helena's eyes roved over the room, desperate for something she could use. Her eyes were immediately drawn to the most eye catching of objects in the room. She had an idea, but it required the use of a spell she had never fully mastered.

 _If there is anything of the people you used to be in you, please help us. Help us protect your city and you're people._

"Piertotum Locomotor."

A wave of light moved through the room like an inflating sphere. The eyes of all forty-one statues started to glow red, and then the sound of stone grinding could be heard as they all moved from their thrones. Helena herself was astonished by what she had accomplished; this was way beyond what she thought she could do.

The stone likeness of King Dóndar – the one that Eragon had put his back to – reached over Eragon's shoulders to grab one of the Kull and threw him the way he had come from and straight into another Kull who fell down from the impact.

The group of Kull froze as they looked around and realized that they were now the ones who were outnumbered.

King Korgan – the very first of the dwarven kings and the one who stood closest to the throne of the current king – walked over to where Arya and Helena watched him with trepidation as he reached to grab them. "Ilf gauhnith," he spoke in a rough but surprisingly gentle voice. Helena had no idea what that meant, but it was obviously meant to be reassuring so she relaxed minutely and allowed herself to be lifted from the ground. The stone likeness of Korgan proceeded to place the comparatively tiny woman on his shoulder. The stone king looked at Arya and seemed to decide that moving her with at least two broken bones was unwise. He looked at one of his fellow kings and barked a command in Dwarvish. The one that was spoken to stepped in front of Arya and then stood still like a sentinel, watching with baleful red eyes to all who dared approach.

The rest of the statues – some of whom had picked up the fallen stalactites to use as clubs – had all moved to surround the Kull. At some unspoken signal they all fell on the Urgal invaders at once. Swords and spears slid or bounced off their stone bodies. Only the Kull who brought clubs – about half of them – could form any meaningful resistance; one even managed to turn a stone arm into rubble. The outcome was never in doubt, however, and soon the ground became slick with blood as it was filled with the broken bodies Kull.

Durza meanwhile stood in the doorframe of the entrance watching the slaughter with a dumfounded expression, but as soon his eyes fell on Helena, he led out an inhuman cry of anger. "Eitha bak eom slytha," he barked.

The light in all of the stone statues went out one by one, starting with the one closest to Durza and moving further outward. Helena put her hand on King Korgan and tried to focus. "Locomotor," she whispered and soon her magic came into direct conflict with Durza's power. She met the challenge and made her power stand in direct opposition to the Shade's magic. She met Durza's eyes and suddenly it was like they were back in Gil'ead.

The only difference was that this time she had nowhere to run to.

All of the statues stood motionless, as lifeless as they were before. Only Korgan still seemed capable of movement and then only lethargically.

Durza grinned and started walking forward, drawing his blade from his scabbard.

Eragon moved to stand between them and held Za'roc out in challenge.

Durza's grin grew wider.

 _'We are with you in spirt,'_ Godric and Saphira spoke to them, and they meant that literally as they slammed their minds against Durza. Arya, too, closed her eyes and added her strength to the assault, even leading the attack since she had more experience with such things. Durza grimaced and paused briefly as he clutched his head as both dragons tried to assault his mind. It didn't stop him long as Durza jumped forward, but the self-assured sense of invincibility was gone from his face. Helena didn't consider that a good thing; enemies being cocky tended to be helpful.

Eragon brought his shield up in time to deflect Durza's blade. "Megin," he whispered and then bashed Durza with his shield, making him take a few a backwards. "Fœri," Eragon said next, and Za'roc shot forward faster than it ever did and nearly caught Durza in the shoulder.

The words Eragon used, Helena recognized as 'strengthen' and 'speed' respectively. _Getting supernatural physical skills can't be that easy can it?,_ Helena wondered.

"Just delay him," Helena shouted from the back of the room.

Eragon heard her and tried, relying mostly on his shield to deflect Durza's blade and keep him back, but despite the dragons' and Arya's best efforts to distract and slow Durza down with a mental assault, the Shade used the pommel and cross guard of his blade to pound against the shield, forcing Eragon to give ground or be forced to his knees. That was, until Durza seemed to lose patience and grabbed the edge of the shield and threw it behind him with a wide gesture. Eragon was able to keep his balance, but he now only had Za'roc to rely on. Helena's patronus, who was still around, attempted to bite Durza's ankles, but only received another kick for her troubles.

Still, it seemed that Durza was increasingly growing weaker the longer the fight dragged on, and Durza's expression slowly became more inhuman the longer the fight dragged on. Eragon wasn't used to his own new powers, however, and he proved that by overextending himself and stumbling after his sword. Durza on the other hand proved that he didn't yet know that Helena's powers required extensive concentration and immediately went for her, instead of trying to finish of Eragon, which would have certainly broken Helena's spell. Eragon cursed and made to follow after him, but he seized up and fell to his knees as if all his muscles had cramps. It seemed that using magic to directly force one's body to go beyond its normal capacity had its risks.

Helena still had Korgan – slow though he now was – and the height advantage of sitting on his shoulders and the spear that she now held in one hand.

Durza reached Korgan in four great leaps and jumped for her with his sword arched behind him, preparing to strike. Helena held the tip of her spear to intercept Durza, but he annulled the attack and instead grabbed her weapon and tried to pull himself up. Helena let go of the spear without even intending to; Durza was simply too heavy for her to hold with one hand without a great amount of effort. She pulled up her legs and tried to keep the lowest point of her still as high as possible, leaning heavily on Korgan's head with her now free hand to do so.

Korgan stepped back, holding his hands out in front of him wardingly. Durza threw her own spear back at her like a javelin, but if there was one thing besides magic that was good about her, it were her reflexes and the spear flew over her shoulder and bounced against the wall behind her.

"Brisingr," Eragon yelled from behind the fighting and a fire exploded in Durza's face perhaps only an inch away. He stepped back with high pitched scream and clutched his face. He looked at Eragon with hate, but gritted his teeth and focused back on Helena who could see the blisters on his pale skin. He dodged Korgan's sluggish attempt to grab him and went under his arm and started climbing from the side of the statue that Helena was on. The witch wanted to circle around the stone head to keep as much distance as possible, but it required too much maneuvering for her occupied mind to accomplish.

And then the statue of Korgan – with a small burst of movement that the animation spell couldn't entirely account for – plucked the Shade from his body as if he was no more than an annoying child and then the fight was over.

Korgan lifted Helena from his shoulder with his other hand and placed her back on the ground. The animation spell around the stone king ended seemingly out of its own accord, and he froze in place, his hand still clutched around Durza.

"Finish it," Eragon said from behind her in a hoarse voice that spoke of immense pain.

Still in somewhat at a daze at the sudden end, Helena reached out a grasping hand and summoned her spear back to her hand.

She looked from Durza who seemed to have lost any semblance of humanity and was now trashing about like animal. His features contorted in expression that were too exaggerated to be human.

"End it," Arya echoed Eragon's words.

Helena looked at Arya. 'It is my right,' she remembered the elf saying back in the war room. She walked over to her and offered her a hand. "You should do it," she said.

"I. . ." Arya hesitated.

"You deserve it more than we do," Helena said. "Now, hurry up before he gets loose or regains his senses."

Arya grabbed her hand and with the smaller girl's support was able to limp the few feet towards the captured Shade. The look on her face was strangely vacant for someone about to receive her much wanted revenge.

Ayra didn't have the strength to do anything more than fall forward, but that was enough for the enchanted spear point to pierce the black scale armor and lodge itself into the Shade's heart.

The inflicted wound didn't spill any blood as would be the norm, instead a black smoky substance – like a black version of a stored pensive memory – began to leak out of the wound. Durza's face and hands – the only part of his skin that was visible under his armor – began to dissolve into that same fluid gas.

Arya abruptly led go of the spear and turned towards Helena. With a push she tried to shove the smaller woman away from her, her eyes were wide with fear. "You have to go!" Helena still didn't led go of Arya, acutely aware that she was the only thing keeping the injured princess standing; this combined with Arya's shove made both women tumble towards the floor.

It would have been too late regardless, as the sublimation of Durza's body suddenly sped up. A whirlwind of darkness surrounded both Helena and Arya.

Visions of horror appeared before Helena's mind as the spirits that had been Durza assaulted her being. Emotions that were not her own threatened to engulf her, to change her.

"Helena!" she could hear Eragon yelling as if from very large distance. Godric tried to protect her, but it was as if a veil had been lifted between the pair and he found himself unable to reach her.

As abruptly as the darkness had come, it left again as a bright light began to circle the witch and the elf. It only took Helena a second to identify the light as her own patronus which still hadn't faded after being physically kicked away twice. The luminescent dog ran over the air like it was solid, and sprung towards the darkness that was now floating above them. The darkness dissipated into three smaller clouds of dark and fled into three different directions, all disappearing through the walls.

Helena looked up at the face of the statue of Korgan; the one who had saved them. _'Would they. . .'_

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"I don't know if we can win this without them," Murtagh said, referring to the dragons and their riders. "Even if the Urgals are more disorganized now."

"Have a little faith in your friends," Nasuada scoffed, and loosed another arrow from the slightly elevated piece of soil she stood on.

If her father thought she was going to waste her time babysitting the group that had left before the battle, then he was sorely mistaken. They didn't need her help anyway; for all that Sabrae tended to see her as nothing but a child – not that surprising since she had been part of the Varden's leadership and had known Nasuada before she had even learned not to piss in her cradle – she was a good organizer and an old hand at putting desperate people at ease.

She had helped the old woman organize the evacuation just like her father said. Specifically, she had counted just how much water, food, and blankets would be required to get few hundred or so people to reach Surda's eastern border. The task was complicated by the fact that the majority of people leaving weren't humans, but dwarves, who would in all likelihood go somewhere else, but would need looking after as well. Luckily, she had a few contacts among the dwarves, even outside the Varden, and was able to sort out that problem with some help. A sizable portion of the dwarves were resentful of the human presence in their city, but Nasuada had been amongst them since she was a child and everybody liked children. That she no longer qualified as such was a fact conveniently forgotten by most. So far that had worked in her favor.

Sabrae had given her two hours to count and collect all the supplies they would need and gather them before one of Farthen Dûr's less used exits.

Nasuada had done it in fifty minutes.

Next – after weaseling the content of the war meeting out of _Jörmundur_ – she pulled rank, as undefined as it was, on the man that Ajihad had sent to ask Murtagh to help them. Knowing her father, the man probably had instructions to be as curt with Murtagh as possible. A simple yes or no question and that was it, perhaps with a subtle threat attached to it. Her father had very little patience or respect for those that needed to be talked into doing the right thing. That was more her area of expertise. Perhaps Ajihad would even respect Murtagh more if he continued to defy him.

She loved her father dearly but he could be a bit dumb sometimes.

Convincing Murtagh wasn't that difficult once she figured out how to do it. The trick with him seemed to be allowing him to think he was somehow doing you a favor. . . which to be fair he was, but he was also helping himself. If you acted like the action you were convincing him to take was selfish, he would get defensive; if it was purely selfless he would get embarrassed and also defensive. Or perhaps it was more like he hated being forced into anything, good or bad? Whatever the reason, once she gave him enough hints – 'the Varden will need all the help we can get', 'the coming battle will be dangerous', 'Ajihad won't admit it but he is worried' – Murtagh offered to help them of his own volition without her even having to come out and ask it. It was always nice when you got people to do what you wanted while somehow letting them think it was their idea all along.

Once that business was done, it had been time for Sabrae and her flock to leave Tronjheim. She purposefully arrived just before they were about to leave. She allowed herself to be seen by a young girl that she drafted as a messenger to tell Sabrae that she had arrived and that they could leave, but that she would bring up the rear to make sure nobody would fall behind. She then promptly assigned that task to someone else and snuck back out to the plains of _Farthen Dûr_. By time that Sabrea would realize what she had done it would be too late.

Next, she dressed herself in a half plate outfit that she had stacked away beforehand to hide her feminine form. A helm to hide her face and nobody would recognize her.

She had never grown up among the wandering tribes, but her father had taught her some of the traditions. She thought most of those were silly, but 'leaders should be willing to suffer for and alongside their people' was one of the only lessons from her father's old tribe that she herself still adhered to. If she was going to run away right at the dawn of the Varden's greatest challenge thus far, what would that say about her?

She had decided to join up with Jörmundur's part of the army. Hrothgar's part was mostly comprised of dwarves so she would stand out too much if she went there. Her father's had been an option, but if he discovered her in the middle of the battle he might waste valuable men that were needed elsewhere to protect her. If Jörmundur discovered her, he would be practical enough not to waste time arguing for her to leave. She hoped. It was a moot point anyway, since he hadn't ended up discovering who she was. The truth would eventually come out of course – it probably already had now that she had started speaking in a voice that was umistakably female – but asking forgiveness was a lot easier than asking permission in this case.

She didn't manage to jump the queue to have the lady Helena cast her spells over her weapons and armor like she had wanted to. If she even had a handful of trusted men in her pocket she might have been able to arrange something, but there was not a single man that she could trust not to betray her secret to Ajihad. The men's unquestioning loyalty to her father was something that had always reassured her, but in that instant it had been a problem.

No great loss; she hadn't planned on being on the front lines anyway. Instead, she stayed back as an archer. It had gotten her more than a few jeers from her fellow Varden, calling her a coward, but she ignored them. They didn't know her reasons, and the less she spoke the less chance of her voice betraying her gender. She was under no illusions that she was some great warrior. She could hit a target with an arrow more often than not, and could draw a knife faster than almost anyone, but put her against any decently trained soldier, or any situation where she didn't have the element of surprise, and she'd be outmatched. Just because she decided to take part in the battle didn't mean she was going to sell her life cheaply.

She had a good view of the battle from where she was and had been quietly awed by the ferocity that both Saphira and Godric showed. For the first time she truly understood just how the Riders had been able to enforce order on the known world for two and half millennia. The dragons alone would have been enough to cow most of the world. Helena had been interesting as well. 'I am more dangerous than I look', she had said. Considering that Helena looked mostly harmless with hardly any air of danger that came with most warriors, that could mean anything. Even most female magicians that the Varden had, had a more dangerous air about them than Helena. _Besides her eyes,_ Nasuada reflected. They had such an uncanny green brightness to it that it might throw some people off, but even that didn't really make her seem dangerous since her expression was usualy so open. At least as far as Nasuada had been able to judge in what little time they had together.

'I have some special talent when it comes to magic,' Helena had told her in the private bathhouse.

 _Some special talent when it comes to magic indeed._ Most magicians she had met used their talents sparingly and when they did it was often subtle or left them barely able to stand. What she had seen Helena do today would have killed all the magicians in _Du Vrangr Gata_ – the twins included – a hundred times over. Even the fire that Nasuada had first attributed to Godric ended up being her doing.

 _Was this what the Riders of old were capable of?_ And Helena had only very recently become a Rider and if she was already this strong. . . but then again, she had said she had been a 'witch' before becoming a Rider hadn't she? There was no way to tell, besides asking her, how much of her powers came from being a Rider. Nasuada was aware of Helena's claim of otherworldly origin and Nasuada was starting to believe it. Surely, if there was a group of people that were capable of using magic in this scale, then they would be well known. Surely?

From what little she had seen of Eragon, he was an excellent fighter and marksman, but that was all. Nasuada had, like many, assumed that Eragon was going to be the most dangerous of the duo, but after today that wouldn't be the case anymore. He would still be considered dangerous of course, but that was more because of his association with Saphira. Both dragons had been terrifying to watch. _And_ _Shruikan_ _is reported to be the size of a small cathedral._ Now there was a truly terrifying prospect.

She, unlike many, had tried to keep informed about how well the other two parts of the army were doing, so she hadn't been surprised when Godric and Saphira had left them to go help the others.

When the call from _Jörmundur_ for a group to go help Ajihad came, she had managed to follow them. What she did would have had her court-martialed normally – leaving her post to join a mission without getting anybody's permission – but she wasn't supposed to even be in the battle in the first place, so this would be the least of her transgressions, and she doubted Ajihad would see her flogged in any event. She had been there when Godric – she almost sure it had been Godric – had shook the very earth with his roar and when both Eragon and Helena started yelling 'to me!'.

 _Those idiots,_ Nasuada had thought. With how loud they were being it was likely that both Hrothgar and Jörmundur's sergeants would at that moment be having trouble keeping their troops from abandoning their post to go rushing towards the dragons. Helena and Eragon were lucky that obedience to one's commanders was considered one of the most important virtues a Varden could have, else any semblance of order would have been lost in those armies that still had them. To their credit, it had rallied the scattered forces of Ajihad's battalion, so that stunt had at least accomplished what it set out to accomplish.

Once Nasuada had confirmed that her father was still alive and fighting, she had looked for an opportunity to return to Jörmundur's part of the battle. Mostly because the spot where her father had been fighting had fewer hills from which to fire her bow in relative safety, and that part of the battle had been going better for the Varden and so offered more safety in general. Again, it would have been something that others would have called her a coward for if they hadn't been so occupied with their own fights.

The next few hours were some of the most difficult and nerve wracking of her life. She had only ever practiced with the bow for an hour at a time, at most, and now she had to keep shooting for more than four hours, almost without pause. The bards, or at least the stupid ones, would have you believe that the bow was a weapon for those with more dexterity than strength; the truth was almost the opposite. Pulling a bowstring required significant arm strength if you want to shoot hard enough to penetrate armor. The vain part of Nasuada had always been annoyed at how her right arm was more muscular as a result of her training than her left; it was why she preferred long sleeves, even in summer. After four hours of shooting, even while taking regular breaks, her arms felt like lead. Thankfully she was able to use those 'breaks' to find new arrows once the two dozen quivers or so that she had prepared ran out. The field was littered with arrows from both sides so there were plenty to find. Those excursions did inevitably bring her closer to the Urgals than she had wanted, and she had needed to defend herself two times already. She also took the opportunity to stab any targets who were to occupied too notice her approach.

It was during one of those opportunities that she ran into Murtagh. He made for an intimidating sight, covered with blood as he was; Nasuada doubted much of it was his own. As usual, he started with a comment that you could take as both compliment and, or, an insult depending on how you looked at it. 'My, my, a little snake slithering all over the sand; striking those unfortunate enough overlook it. I didn't know the Varden recruited those shifty types. I am truly impressed.'

Nasuada was reasonably sure that Murtagh liked her more than he liked her father, which meant that she didn't need to hide her identity for once.

She had lifted her visor so he could see her face. Nasuada took some satisfaction in how Murtagh's eyes had widened. 'Shows how little you know about us,' she had greeted him with, doing her best to mimic his own wry expression. People tended to respond better to those who shared their sense of humor.

From that moment on, Murtagh had insisted on acting as her bodyguard. Nasuada objected once and only once for the sake of propriety. One was supposed to turn down a gift the first time. It was like an 'Oh! You shouldn't have!'. Murtagh naturally argued and Nasuada gave in immediately. In truth, she was very glad for the extra protection. With the dragons needing to split their attention between all three armies, the battle was significantly harder, at least for the Varden.

That encounter had happened two hours ago.

The dragons and their Riders had left for Tronjheim to do who knows what half an hour ago. Normally, Nasuada would have informants aplenty to keep her in the know, but since she wasn't even supposed to be here, she was as in the dark as any common footman. She had heard a sergeant yelling that they would return soon, but Nasuada couldn't be certain that wasn't simply moral boosting.

The men had been holding still, but this had always been the army that had done the best from the beginning, mostly due to having more 'dragon support time'. Nasuada worried about how Ajihad and Hrothgar were holding up.

The sound of crashing stone coming from Tronjheim about twenty-five minutes ago hadn't been reassuring either.

Then something strange happened.

All of Urgals seemed to seize up suddenly. Many of the Varden took advantage of the temporarily stunned state to kill their enemy, though the moment didn't last long. All of the Urgals seemed confused afterwards, though that too didn't last long and they soon started fighting again, as vicious as ever. Things were different though; before that moment, the Urgals seemed to work together more than they did now. Since she never saw any Urgals issuing commands, Nasuada had assumed that either this Durza was commanding them from afar, or some Urgal shaman was relaying orders telepathically. That this had stopped was a very good sign; it meant that whomever was commanding them had been killed or otherwise incapacitated.

That didn't mean that the Varden had won yet. The Urgals were still as dangerous and numerous as ever. Nasuada knew that Urgals tended to fight amongst themselves, but they would still make common cause with each other when faced with humans and dwarves. Perhaps the Urgals would turn on each other if they won and there were no other threats to face, but since that would mean that the Varden would be dead, that wasn't a comfort.

"Did you hear that?" Murtagh asked.

"The sound of people screaming and dying?" Nasuada said dryly.

"I am serious," Murtagh's gaze became distant. "Like footsteps, but heavier."

"The dragons?" Nasuada suggested, though she knew that was unlikely; they would be flying instead.

"I don't think so," Murtagh said, and now Nasuada could hear it too. The rhythm was definitely that of running footsteps, plural, but the sound itself was. . . rocky.

Then the sound that they had been waiting for came.

 **"Rrrrrrrrraaaaaaahhhhhh,"** came the sound of both Godric and Saphira roaring.

"Charge!" yelled the magically enhanced voice of Helena.

 _'Again, she issues orders without understanding the battle,'_ Nasuada thought, annoyed at the smaller but more powerful woman. You don't order a charge when melee has already begun and the enemy hasn't been broken yet.

And then two giant stone statues ran past them, slamming into the Urgal ranks like a sledgehammer on clay.

 _What. . .?_

Godric and Saphira darted for her father's part of the army, no doubt causing all sorts of mayhem there, but Nasuada couldn't take her eyes off of the. . . yes those were definitely the stone statues that were supposed to be sitting in Hrothgar's throne room. Nasuada had seen them often enough to recognize them.

 _"That's new,"_ Murtagh said nonplussed.

Nasuada could tell that the battle was over now. The Urgals. . . no they weren't breaking, but they were focusing on retreating. Nasuada didn't blame them.

 _'I need to find Orik,'_ Nasuada thought. She didn't know Orik well, but he was the only dwarf on this battlefield that she knew well enough other than Hrothgar. When dwarfs tried to find an explanation for what happened here, it was crucial that it was: 'And so the kings of the past rose up to defend their city and aid the Riders in their hour of need' and not 'And so one of the Riders used their magic to force the statues of dwarven kings to do battle on their behalf.'

If Nasuada acted fast enough, she was sure she could spin this in positive light. Hrothgar would see the sense of spinning the story in a positive light as well, though perhaps he would leave the 'support the Riders in their hour of need' out of it. So she hoped.

When the cheering began, it really dawned on her that they had survived. Many were dead and wounded, but they had survived with more than half of their number still standing. Considering the odds they faced, that was an achievement, even with two Riders and dragons helping them. _And they aren't even fully trained yet._

A small shiver went through Nasuada as she for a moment understood just why the dwarves were so wary of them. _If our race is to have any autonomy after this battle, it only because they allow us to have it._

It was only for a moment though. Even from just the small amount of interaction she had with them, she knew they weren't the kind of people to lord their power over others. _'If someone must have such power, let be them,'_ Nasuada thought to herself. _'And please do not let me be wrong about their character.'_

Nasuada started running, looking for anybody that might point her in Orik's direction.

 _"Hey! Hold up, it isn't safe yet!"_ Murtagh yelled as he ran after her, but Nasuada wasn't listening, too caught up in her own thoughts.

 _Before now, they were a vain hope. We believed in them, because the alternative was too horrible to contemplate, but now it will be different. They are more than a promise now._

 _'Now, they are our heroes.'_

* * *

Dwarvish:  
qarzûl: cursed  
Ilf gauhnith: it is safe

AN:  
So this is the part were the first book of Inheritance Cycle ended. I am planning to post one or two more chapters (until the part where they leave for the elves) when they are finished before I go on a hiatus, partly to get a surplus of chapters. School will likely be about to begin again for me by then. I first went to university for two years, failed, then had a yearlong depression followed by two and a half year of trying to muster the will try something new again. In September I will start a chemistry coarse, and though the start of a school year is usually not that heavy in work load, I want to try and create some good habits early. Point is, I have no idea how all of that will effect my writing speed. Now enough about my personal life! That is so not what you are here for.

The more I think about it, the more I understand just why the concept of a 'magical core' is such a popular trope in HP fanfiction. Without it, shit starts getting OP fast. Meh, nothing for it now.

Yes, in canon, a word for magic exists in the Ancient Language, but wards just seem to easy that way and my explanation makes more sense to me.

That part about a Shade being immune to magic was first proposed to me by Synthesis, so credit to her for that. I had no idea how not to make a Shade completely indestructible by putting a kill switch on their own bodies. I also made it that a Shade gets more animalistic as they lose power – hence Durza's behavior towards the end. Having only one way to die permanently is just such a huge advantage that I felt such a nerf was in order. Also, I wanted a quiet moment so Arya could get the kill. Let's face it people, Durza was more her enemy than anyone else's.

I also might go back to my earlier chapters and fix them up a bit (and beg my Beta to help me do so). 'Now najex,' you might be wondering (though probably not), 'didn't you say in a AN a few chapters ago that you didn't like to change chapters after they had been posted?' Well, you are right, ofc, but you forget one thing. I am not a politician and so am allowed to change my mind as many times as it pleases me.


	22. A large amount of scruples

**Special thanks to my Beta CerialReader for finding the mistakes in this chapter.**

* * *

In the days directly after the battle, if one were to ask any man of the Varden when the battle of Farthen Dûr ended, they were likely to tell you it ended when Godric, Saphira, and the stone kings, joined or rejoined the battle.

If one were to ask that same question to Helena, she would tell you it ended far later, not until dawn arrived if not past then.

The question of who won might have been decided when Arya plunged Helena's own weapon into Durza's heart, or when Helena managed to convince the stone kings to continue to aid them until the Urgal invaders were repelled, but the fighting hadn't stopped.

There were still great acts of heroism, though less so on the side of the Varden. When it became obvious to the Urgals that they either would have to retreat or all perish, thousands of them formed up before the tunnel exits, buying time for their fellows to escape with their lives.

After getting a report from them on what happened in Tronnjheim, Ajihad had commanded her to collapse all three tunnel exits so they could finish off the enemy. The order had come via the twin on watch. The magician said that he had been driven from the top of Trondheim by the Urgals shortly after he told the Riders to go to Tronjheim themselves, though he had managed to reclaim his position.

Helena had refused the order.

 _'What did you say?'_ The twin's tone was sharp and dangerous.

 _'You heard me,_ ' she said, trying her best to make her mental voice sound hard.

 _'This is a direct order from Ajihad_.'

 _'My answer is the same. We have won. Let the Urgals flee and nobody else needs to die tonight.'_

The twin didn't respond, probably reporting her insubordination to Ajihad.

 _'Are you certain?_ ' Eragon contacted her. Helena knew he had been listening in; the twin always contacted both Riders at the same time, which Helena thought was an impressive feat. Godric and Saphira were circling, slowly, high above the ground; 'to rest and gather more information' the dragons had said. _'If we cut of their means of escape, they will never harm anyone again,'_ Eragon continued to say.

 _'I see no reason to risk lives for a cause that is already won.'_

That wasn't her only reason though. She did not want to massacre a fleeing enemy. Before now she had been ambivalent about the evilness of the Urgals, relying mostly on Eragon's and Murtagh's negative opinions since she lacked personal experience herself. What she was seeing now as she looked down on the battlefield changed her mind. In the darkness of the night, the happenings on the ground were hard to make out, with only the light of the moon and stars and several lanterns that had been strewn about to see by, but when looking through Godric's eyes it as might as well be a summer day outside. No one who is capable of laying down one's own life so that their fellows have a chance to escape could be considered completely irredeemable. She had never seen a Death-Eater do something like this if one didn't count those who turned against Voldemort in the end.

She doubted that objection would sway Eragon however. His hatred for the grey skinned, horned race ran deep. She decided not to mention her changed stance on the Urgals, at least not now.

Perhaps if she still had her mind melded with Godric's like she had during the battle, she wouldn't feel so strongly about this, but she had decided not to rely on that crutch until she ran into a situation again where she couldn't do without. The memories of when she had allowed Godric to steer her mind were hazy like a vivid dream seen through a red tinted lens, but she remembered that it had felt glorious. That scared her; slaughter wasn't supposed to be glorious.

 _'Ajihad asks that you come down to talk to him directly,'_ the twin told them.

Helena led out a weary breath. It was clear that the leader of the Varden meant to convince them in person.

They descended downwards towards Ajihad's banner. Now that things were less chancy, it seemed that Ajihad felt he could take a break. A large dark blue tent was being set up close to the fighting, but not so close as to be in danger of being taken unawares, especially not with the Urgals no longer focused on inflicting damage but on survival.

"Get down from there; I would speak to you in private," Ajihad told them once they had landed. He turned towards his attendants saying, "Go see if you can help set up the command tent." Soon the leader of the Varden was alone with the Riders and dragons.

"I want you both, Helena and Eragon, but I would prefer if you Godric, and you Saphira, would continue to help our forces while we talk," Ajihad continued to say. The light of the lanterns shining up from where they lay on the ground gave all their faces a slightly haunted look.

Helena knew that Godric wanted to rejoin the battle, but she also knew that he didn't want to leave her behind. _'Go if you want; I will be safe enough here.'_

 _'You realize that I will be killing those who are only trying to get away, right? Isn't that the very thing you are so strongly objecting to?'_

Helena had to pause for a moment. _'I would appreciate it if you focus more on protecting the Varden than killing the enemy.'_

 _'It is not that simple Helena. The Varden are hunting after the Urgals and the Urgals are fighting for their lives. To protect one is to kill the other, unless you mean to have me attack both sides until they behave themselves?'_

 _'No,'_ she gritted her teeth, feeling incredibly weary. _'Just do your best.'_ They were empty words that offered no solution and she knew it.

Godric looked from her to where the sounds of battle were still coming from. Helena could feel his indecision. Eventually he turned to her, _'I am sorry.'_ And then he flew off towards the fighting. Saphira had already left immediately after Eragon dismounted.

Helena's heart felt heavy and she hadn't even begun to argue with Ajihad.

"Sit down," Ajihad motioned towards a stone bench, "No reason not to let our bodies rest, even if our minds can't afford to yet."

Both Eragon and Helena did so. Ajihad sat down on a wooden chair himself that was probably meant to go inside the tent that was still being set up. An empty table and a few other chairs stood nearby as well.

"You were at the meeting where we decided on a strategy were you not?" Ajihad asked.

Both Riders nodded.

"Then do you remember the purpose of our entire strategy? Why we did not simply flee or close up all the tunnels, instead of deliberately baiting them here?"

"Because then you couldn't predict where the Urgals would come from," Helena answered. It was a cruel irony that the Urgals had still come from a place nobody predicted when they dug through the tunnels under Tronjheim. As of now, Tronjheim itself was still under the control of the Kull, though they would likely retreat as well once they noticed that the battle was lost. Hopefully they wouldn't break or steal anything too important on their way out.

The Riders had left Arya behind in the throne room at the elf's own urging. 'I can hide myself, and recover my strength in the meantime. Go and finish this fight; I will still be here when you retake the city,' she had said.

"That too, but I also said that since the Urgals have thrown their lot in with Galbatorix, we would have to face them eventually. That hasn't changed. If we let them go, we must face them again later, perhaps this time united with Galbatorix's own imperial army. We cannot take such a risk."

"You cannot know–"

"He is right," Eragon interrupted her. "I don't want to be responsible for all the harm these Urgals will do to the land if we let them go."

"You can't know that."

Eragon scoffed. "They are Urgals. Causing harm is all they know how to do."

And there was the crux of the matter. Urgals were viewed as monsters and their wellbeing didn't factor into the calculations. To be honest, Helena wasn't all that fond of them herself, but that didn't mean she would condone killing them all.

After a moment's thought she tried a different tactic. "Nobody is more dangerous than when they are cornered. Take away their hope of escape and they will try to take as many of us with them as they can."

Ajihad wasn't convinced. "That won't be a concern if you help us. With your help, we can kill them without taking too many casualties."

Helena tried to come up with something else that might convince them, but couldn't think of anything.

After ten seconds of silence Ajihad spoke again. "Would you go if I ordered you?"

"No," she said immediately. She may have fought in a war before, but she was no soldier. She wouldn't do something she thought was wrong on a fundamental level. _The Order of the Phoenix would never have asked anyone to do this._

"Why does this bother you so much?" Eragon asked. "If you don't want to do it, just let me do it."

The concern in his voice made her heart constrict painfully. He made it sound as if a big spider had snuck into her bed and she was afraid to kill it herself, so he would do it for her. _He doesn't understand_. She feared that if she said that she didn't see the Urgals as monsters, that concern would turn to anger, especially now, and he wouldn't be the only one. They had just spent many hours with Urgals trying to kill them. Many of the Varden had probably lost friends today. Her advocating towards showing mercy towards the enemy wouldn't go over well.

"Would you stop us if we tried it without you, perhaps with Eragon's help?" Ajihad asked.

Helena lowered her head and gritted her teeth. She didn't want to commit slaughter, but she certainly didn't want to fight the Varden over this, let alone Eragon. Yet, was it right to allow her boyfriend to do something she viewed as evil? It felt like cowardice.

There was no good answer so, again, she remained silent, feeling very small.

But silence was an answer in and of itself. "You can't be serious," Eragon sounded incredulous. "I told you about Yazuac! A mountain of corpses, innocent people slaughtered like animals, an innocent babe impaled on a pike!"

"One wrong doesn't justify another," she said softly, not meeting anyone's eye.

"Yet that is basically what war _is_ ," Ajihad said, not unkindly. "Eragon, are you with us?"

"I am," he answered at once, standing up.

"You are tired," Helena tried one last time. "You used up so much energy on the entrance to Tronjheim, on healing Arya, on fighting Durza. You don't have the strength to collapse those tunnels."

It seemed that bringing attention to Eragon's exhaustion brought it to the surface as he started wobbling unsteadily on his feet. It was as if he had forgotten about his fatigue until Helena reminded him of it.

Ajihad looked worried. "Is it true?"

"I–" his breath caught in his throat. "I think I will manage." He didn't sound very convincing.

Ajihad looked uncertain. "I do not want you risking yourself needlessly when you are at your weakest."

"It is not needlessly," Eragon said heatedly.

"Best you rest and face them at your best," Helena said, seizing on the opportunity.

Eragon hesitated and then shot her a betrayed look. "Fine," he spat. "I'll let your precious Urgals go."

"It isn't like that!" she protested.

"Emotions are high," Ajihad said, raising a calming hand. "I think she is wrong, but she means well Eragon. Please remember that for both your sakes." Some of the tension seemed to drain out of Eragon as he fell back into the bench. "I will order my army to stand down and let the Urgals scatter into the tunnels. You are not the only ones who are tired. We all are. There is some merit to Helena's remark that the Urgals will fight harder if they have no hope of escape. We will hunt them down once we have gotten some rest and some food in our bellies."

"Tronjheim is overrun," Eragon pointed out.

"The twin – not the one who played messenger, the other one – has scouted the place out for conscious minds, and there are almost none. Most of the Urgals have fled, and what few remain will be easy to deal with."

A runner ran up to Ajihad and whispered something in his ear. Helena feared another attack when Ajihad seemed to pale at the whispered words, but her fear turned to confusion at his next words. "Where is she?" Ajihad's words were mild, but there was a dangerous edge to them.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

After Ajihad politely turned down the messenger's offer to bring 'her' to him because he 'wanted to deal with it himself', and after he gave orders to his sergeants to not attempt to prevent the Urgals from escaping to the tunnels, they all followed the messenger to whatever new problem had arisen. Helena noticed that at some point Solembum the werecat had taken to following them from a distance.

"Isn't there something we can do to help them," Eragon asked as he looked at a triage that had been set up nearby; the cries of pain coming from there cut at both Riders like nails scratching on a blackboard.

Helena and Eragon didn't speak to each other on the way. Helena wished she could do something about the new tension between them but didn't know how. She absolutely refused to apologies for doing the right thing. In fact, the longer she thought about it, the more she became convinced that she shouldn't be ashamed of saying her opinion out loud, even if it invited scorn. Saying what you thought was right in the face of ridicule was another part of courage.

"You are tired, I can see it in your eyes and in the way you walk," Ajihad said. "The best you can do for them is recover quickly. If they die in the time it would take you to regain your strength they would be too badly hurt for you to heal them anyway. Console yourself with the knowledge that because of your actions this night, most will live to be reunited with their families."

They met Jörmundur before they reached whatever problem Ajihad was told of. As the Varden's second in command was one of the few who fought while mounted on a horse, he was easy to spot.

"My lord," Jörmundur greeted him as he galloped on his grey stallion towards him. He looked at Eragon and Helena as well, but he didn't seem to know how to greet them properly, and Ajihad didn't give him the chance to improvise something.

"Tell our men to stand down for today," he ordered. "We will pursue them once we have a good rest."

"What about Hrothgar?" Jörmundur asked. "He won't like that this decision was made without consulting him."

"He agreed that I was to be in charge of the battle; that means he must accept my authority in this matter. He may continue to fight them on his own if he wants, but he won't."

"Yes, and what about the euhm," Jörmundur made a confused look, "stone statues that are still beating on the Urgals as we speak. Will they listen to anything I say?"

Everyone suddenly looked to Helena who rubbed the back of neck sheepishly. "That is a very good question," she said with an awkward smile an upwards pointing finger held in front of her face. "Perhaps have Hrothgar ask them instead? Maybe they are more likely to listen to a fellow king."

"Go and bring my decision to Hrothgar in person once you have given the orders and ask for aid. After that, I need you to make sure Tronjheim is secure," Ajihad said and Jörmundur rode off. Next, Ajihad looked at Helena and shook his head. "I have so many questions about those statues I don't know where to start."

"I probably won't be able to answer half of them," Helena admitted. "It was spell born of desperation and I don't fully understand how it works myself."

"How real are they?" was Ajihad's first question.

 _Another good question,_ Helena thought. The best analogy she could come up with was that they were like the Hogwarts portraits, but that wouldn't be helpful. "They are echoes of who they were, but they are not ghosts brought back to life if that is what you were wondering about."

"Is this going to be permanent and can you repeat it with any other statues?"

"I don't think so, and maybe?" It was a very uncertain 'maybe'.

Ajihad's face was a picture of exasperation. "You don't even understand or know your own powers, do you?"

"Magic will never reveal all its secrets to anyone," she said with a small smile.

Ajihad clicked his tongue in irritation and continued walking. "You don't need to follow me," he said. "I know you hate being separated from your dragons."

"We are hardly separated," Eragon said, and looked towards the battle that was still raging on, if not as fierce now that the Varden were no longer trying to prevent the Urgals from running. Because of their size, Saphira and Godric were clearly visible in the mass of bodies.

Helena knew that there were probably more useful things she could be doing. In fact, since she had been advised to rest, doing nothing might literally be more useful than what she was actually doing, but she was worried what all the fuss was about. Ajihad had mentioned a 'she' and there weren't many women present. Besides Helena herself, the only ones that she knew of were Arya, Angela and however many female magicians had chosen to stay and help.

The mystery was soon solved as Nasuada came into view, looking not at all sorry to be somewhere she definitely wasn't supposed to be. She was surrounded by several men who were probably meant to be both protection and keepers. Murtagh was also present, his face and armor covered in blood. Helena doubted much of it was his own. He was sitting on the ground with his legs crossed, seemingly amused by the whole situation.

"Leave us," Ajihad said. Eragon and Helena exchanged uncertain looks, not sure if they were included in that command. "Not you," Ajihad said when Murtagh stood up and was about to leave. He dropped himself back on the ground, obviously exhausted.

"Euhm. . ." Eragon sounded just to draw attention to the fact that he was still there.

"You can stay," Ajihad said offhandedly as if saying that it didn't matter if they did, before turning his attention towards Solembum who was lying on the ground, his red eyes glowing softly in the dark. Even Helena, who knew Solembum, couldn't help but think the werecat looked creepy. "You can't stay."

"Meow?" Solembum went innocently.

"Nice try werecat."

Solembum purred, stood up, tilted his head away from them in a contemptuous manner, flicked his tail, and calmly walked away. Ajihad finally turned his attention towards his wayward daughter.

"Father," Nasuada greeted Ajihad with a smile as if this was just an ordinary day and they had run into each other by happy coincidence. She spared a glance for Helena and Eragon but otherwise focused on her father.

Said father didn't seem inclined to play along. He stepped right in front of her so that they were only a few inches apart, crossed his arms, and stared down at her in stony silence. Nasuada was tall for a woman – probably why she found a fitting mail shirt – but she still looked tiny and fragile when contrasted with Ajihad with his broad shoulders encrusted in plate armor. It wasn't long before Nasuada's smile grew visibly strained and she started to fidget with the leather sleeves poking out of her mail shirt.

Eventually it was Nasuada who broke the silence, her face a mask of defiance. "Was it not you who said a leader should be willing to do more, endure more, and show more honor than anyone else? That is what makes one fit to be leader to begin with."

"I also said one must be aware of one's own abilities. You are no warrior. By trying to be one you forced others to look after you." Ajihad nodded towards Murtagh. "I understand you kept my foolish daughter alive. I won't forget this."

Murtagh didn't seem able to hold his gaze. "She did not need _that_ much protecting; she wasn't reckless," he shrugged casually, but Helena could tell he felt uneasy at the praise. It reminded her a little of herself actually.

"So what are you going to do?" Nasuada asked with a hint of insolence as if daring Ajihad to punish her.

A wry smile appeared on Ajihad's face "Your actions brought Murtagh out of his prison. Now they brought you into it. Ironic no?"

Nasuada seemed to accept her punishment with grace and made no protest.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

After leaving Nasuada under guard, it seemed they had one last person to check up on before they could retire back to Tronjheim.

"Ajihad! Riders!" Hrothgar greeted them, surprisingly enthusiastic. He wasn't as covered in blood as Murtagh was, but the large end of the hammer that was strapped to his waist was red with blood. By now, the armies had disengaged and all the Urgals had fled back into the tunnels. Hrothgar was standing next to one of the stone statues that now stood motionless before the exits.

"Your majesty," Ajihad greeted cordially with a small bow. "Shall we retire to a tent or speak here?"

Saphira and Godric also converged on the meeting, landing a short distance away. Everyone raised their hands to protect their face from the clouds of dust the two large dragons kicked up with their landing.

"Let us give a quick report now, so we retire for what little remains of the night. We can do a more thorough review later."

Helena look around at all the dwarves and the few men that had followed Ajihad. This didn't look like it was going to be a private talk.

"What happened in Tronjheim?" Hrothgar asked.

Ajihad looked from Eragon to Helena, his expression asking them to give their report.

"It was a trap," Helena said succinctly.

"Durza was there, along with a force of Kull," Eragon elaborated. "We killed the Shade."

"Who dealt the finishing blow?"

"Arya did," Eragon answered, and all the spectators started whispering to each other. Helena could hear the name 'Shadeslayer' being dropped.

Hrothgar's eyes widened briefly in surprise. "Really? I guess it is fitting in a way, though most would have expected something different." _They expected me or Eragon to kill him,_ Helena knew.

"It was a team effort," she felt the need to point out.

"Most great deeds are," Hrothgar acknowledged, "I will ask for the details later, but I am afraid there is one point where my curiosity overwhelms my patience," he paused for dramatic effect. "The statues of kings. I have heard plenty of rumors, but I want to hear it from you. What is the meaning of it?"

Eragon looked to Helena first and then _everyone_ looked at her.

"I asked for help. My magic allowed them to answer." More whispered conversation followed.

"Could they have refused?" Hrothgar asked.

"I do not fully understand what happened myself, but I think so."

The whispered conversations continued, but Hrothgar was quiet for a long time.

"Well whatever else," Hrothgar said eventually. "I asked that you prove yourself with actions and you have done so. We of the stone will not forget the blood that you have shed alongside us this day."

Helena privately thought that Eragon and herself had probably shed less blood than Godric or Saphira, but she knew it would be a bad idea to point that out. Well, whatever, so long as the dwarves weren't going to make problems for them, she'd take it.

"Before we do anything else, I– we," she corrected herself with a glance towards Eragon, "want to make sure that Arya is taken care of before we do anything else."

"We will send our best healers of course," Ajihad promised. He looked around himself, searching. "Where is that werecat from before?"

As if summoned by his words, Solembum jumped out between a tangle of armored legs, startling many a dwarf.

Ajihad adopted his most charming smile. Helena thought it looked very strange on the large man. "Could you please ask that friend of yours if she could spare the time to tend to the lady Arya?" he asked.

Without giving an answer, Solembum jumped away.

Helena felt the cat's mind brush against her own. 'How rude of you not to greet me properly. I see you still have much to learn.' Helena felt a bit flummoxed at the admonishment; she had simply not wanted to blow the werecat's cover after he started following them. And it would look a might bit silly to be seen talking to cat so out of the blue, wouldn't it?

 _'Ignoring the expectation of others to follow your own will; that too, is courage child.'_ The mind retreated from her.

"Do you mind if we go to see Arya ourselves?" Eragon asked Ajihad. "We did leave her wounded when we left her; at her insistence, yes, but still. . ."

"I do not mind, but take some men with you. In fact, please see if you can find this Angela and see if she will accept an escort."

"She won't," Helena said wryly.

"Then go with her yourself; you can look after each other."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Eragon decided that it was best if they simply waited before the gate to Tronjheim and let Angela come to them. Godric and Saphira were resting some distance away to give them privacy.

"I shouldn't have yelled," Eragon said and broke the silence between them.

"No. You shouldn't have," Helena agreed.

Eragon's eyebrows twitched. "And you are not a bad person just because you want to show mercy to monsters."

"No. I am not," Helena agreed again.

Eragon gave her a dry look. "I am trying to apologies."

"And I have graciously accepted your apology," Helena said, lips twitching.

"You are supposed to apologize too," Eragon argued.

"What am I apologizing for?" Helena wondered.

"I am sure you can think of something," Eragon said.

"Well, I guess I did apparate into Tronjheim without consulting you or anyone first. Does that count?"

"It absolutely counts."

"Good."

". . ."

"Helena," Eragon said with as much exasperation as he could put into that one word.

"Fine. I am sorry that I jumped into that fight without thinking. I always tell myself that next time I will be more cautious, but it's like an alcoholic telling himself that he will never drink again for the hundredth time."

"I worry for you."

"You and Godric have more in common than he wants to admit."

"He still doesn't like me?"

"He is just playing the overly protective dad who fears for his daughter's virtue."

". . . that is terrifying actually."

"He knows that eating you would make me sad, so don't worry."

Eragon did not look reassured. "I still don't agree with your decision regarding the Urgals."

"I know." The conversation died after that and they waited for Angela to appear in silence.

Luckily, they didn't need to wait long before Angela appeared, Solembum following close behind her. She didn't look very happy, her shoulders were slumped and her features were despondent.

"You don't look injured," Eragon pointed out. "What are you sad about."

"You mean besides the hundredths of deaths and the countless of wounded that you can still hear moaning from all the way up here if you strain your ears?"

Eragon cringed. "Stupid question, sorry."

"But there _is_ more to it, isn't there?" Helena tried. She didn't believe that Angela was really sad about the deaths, or at least Helena didn't get the feeling that that was why she made that face. She looked more annoyed than anything.

"It's Aijhad," Angela scowled. "Why couldn't he be an arrogant frog, making demands and giving orders like all leaders are supposed to? Then I could have some fun messing with him, but noooo. Instead he asks me nicely if I want to help with healing the poor elven maiden, hero of the hour. If I refuse I am heartless bitch, if I just do what he says then I am just another crony. What am I supposed to do?" Angela's tone became more whinier as she talked.

"Ajihad seems like someone worth following," Eragon tried to console her.

"But I am individualist! If I had known that Arya needed help I would have shown up to help without prompting, but now that I have been _asked_ to do it, something in me just wants to do something else."

"But you _are_ helping," Helena said in a tone that was almost a question.

"Yes, yes, don't worry," Angela confirmed with a pouty expression and continued walking towards Tronjheim, Eragon and Helena falling into step with her, the dragons following behind them. "Since you seem so unconcerned with not sharing your secrets," Angela addressed Helena, "mind sharing some of your potions or herb lore with me? It might help me with treating Arya."

"I could lend you my books on potions if you want," Helena offered.

"Done," Angela said immediately. "I promise I won't keep them longer than necessary."

They passed the gate with the shattered wooden barricade, several Kull corpses, one Varden patrol that was making sure everything was safe, and finally, they arrived at the ruined remains of Isidar Mithrim.

"It has been a while since I have seen something this tragic," Angela said solemnly. "The ruins of one of the greatest wonders in the world."

It hadn't completely broken into pieces of course. A gemstone of 400 feet in diameter doesn't just shatter completely; the main body had merely broken in three pieces, but most of the more fragile petals had broken off and shattered. Furthermore, Helena had used the _Reductor_ Curse to break off a large portion of the gem to free Godric and Saphira. At the site where the dragons had been trapped, a large circular depression was now carved in the gem, small fragments of what used to be part of something greater were sprayed across the ground like fine red sand.

 _Maybe. . ._ she had never done it with something this large, but it couldn't hurt to try could it? She waved her hand and gathered as much power as she could. _"Reparo."_

All the pieces, large or small, that had once been part of the Isidar Mithrim started to glow red, lighting up the otherwise dark room. As if time was reversing itself, all the pieces came back to their original position. The three large pieces snapped back together and the smaller pieces flowed through the air like water. Helena thought it was a beautiful sight.

"It looks as good as new," Eragon said, his tone had a strange hollow quality to it. _Perhaps he was simply overawed or in shock?_ Helena thought. _I don't blame him._ This was the second time today were her magic surprised even herself.

Angela stepped forward and put a hand on one of the large rose petals. "Certainly impressive," she said and then closed her eyes for a few seconds before opening them again. "But you didn't restore it completely."

"It looks the same," Helena said, and it did. She could see no noticeable flaw. "Do you mean it needs to be put back on the top of the hall?" That would be quite the task; likely more so than the mending charm had been.

"No. That is not what I meant," Angela said. "Do you remember the wonder you felt when you first laid eyes on it back when you first arrived?" she didn't wait for an answer. "Of course you do. Now look again and tell me what you feel."

"I have already seen it more than once. You can't expect me to feel overwhelmed by the beauty every time, can you?" Helena asked. Eragon voiced his agreement with the sentiment.

"True, but it should still be more then what you feel now. The gem feels more," Angela paused, searching for the right words. "Empty. Like it is just. . . like it is just. . . this thing shouldn't be _just_ anything!" The herbalist clicked her tongue in annoyance. "You restored its form, but not its soul, if that makes sense. I have no doubt that almost any dwarf who has seen it before it was destroyed will still be able to tell that something terrible happened to it."

Now that Angela pulled attention to it, Helena did think there was something less marvelous about it, but she couldn't for the life of her figure out why that was. "Do you think I shouldn't have tried to restore it?"

"I don't know," Angela said softly and then her eyes widened. "Wow, it's been a while since I admitted to not knowing something." She shook her head. "Anyway, it's done now. What were you planning to do? Destroy it again? Just blame the Shade and have done." Angela started walking towards the underground entrance. Because of the large gem in the middle of the room, they had to hug the walls to reach it. The dragon climbed over the gemstone instead. The tunnel which had been collapsed twice now had already been dug open again when Durza needed to follow them to the Throne room.

It wasn't long before they reached their destination, standing before the door with the seven pointed crown. Helena had closed the door with a locking charm before leaving to give Arya some extra protection. Arya could easily break her little spell without effort if she wanted since she knew what to look for. Most of Helena's magic was easy to undo by the local magicians if they knew what to look for. Helena once again congratulated herself on keeping most of abilities a secret up until now.

"Arya!" Eragon yelled once they stepped inside.

"I am here," came a much softer voice from somewhere within the forest of stalagmites. "How goes the battle."

"We won," Eragon said.

"The Urgals retreated back into the cave and Ajihad means to chase them once we have taken care of our own," Helena elaborated.

"We sent them running like mice fleeing from Solembom," Angela threw in her own two cents. "Except these mice actually got away." Angela threw a meaningful look at Helena at that last part before turning back in the direction of Arya's voice. "Also, you have been dubbed Shadeslayer by the rabble. Congratulations!" All the humans started navigating through the limestone pillars. Sometimes the pillars stood so close together that they needed to hug the pillars to keep their balance due to the lack of footing.

"I should have told you to take the credit," Arya lamented. "Either or both of you together. You will need it more than I do."

"You were the only one who ever stood a chance against him one on one, and you had a personal vendetta to settle," Helena shrugged. "Besides, once we four defeat Galbatorix, I am sure you will merely become a small footnote in the history books."

A short musical laugh came from behind a pillar. "Now that is something I would love to see," Arya said. They had reached the elf and despite all the injuries to her body, she was smiling. She had created a makeshift cast using limestone and shredded pieces of her own clothing "I am afraid it will be at least a day before I can mend my broken leg myself. I will have some difficulty moving until then."

"I have to wonder how you managed to get here in the first place," Eragon wondered. "Last time I saw you, you were behind the throne at the other end of the room."

"I hopped on one leg," was all Arya said.

"Elves," Angela said with a roll of her eyes before turning to Helena. "Can you solve this problem with a wave of your hand like usual, or do we actually need to carry her?"

"I can levitate her, yes, but it might be best if she removes any wards that could possibly interfere first." Helena gave Arya a measuring look; she looked rather pale. "You don't look like you have much energy to spare in case they start draining you."

"No, I don't. Just give me a minute," they gave her a minute during which Arya whispered words of power under her breath. "Done."

Helena pointed her ring finger at the elf and slowly lifted it. Arya was lifted upward, following were Helena's finger was pointing until she flew just out of reach of any normal man. "Interesting, I don't feel like any pressure is coming from below, yet something is countering gravity," Arya mused.

"Of course. Magic is," Helena said.

"But how is it doing it? Does it take away the gravitational forces on my body or does it add a new one with a vector in the opposite direction?"

"This again? By all means try to figure out the logical reasons behind magic, but it will get you nowhere."

"If logic has no place, then I have to wonder what they even teach you in that school of yours."

"To master magic is to master one's imagination and mind. All humans are born with inborn instincts of what is possible and what is not; these must be broken down. History, astronomy, herbology, and potions, are also taught. We get schooled on our literary skills as well. We are also taught not only what we can do, but what we are _allowed_ to do and _shouldn'_ t do. It is a difficult conundrum since we must believe that we can do anything while also accepting that we can't."

"Then to figure out how your magic works you must learn what your mind is and isn't capable of?"

"More or less," Helena shrugged and started walking, Arya floating behind her like a balloon with an invisible string. She never really cared about the whys of magic, and the hows only mattered as far as being able to use it effectively herself. When practicing magic, such an attitude could work both for and against you, depending on the situation. "I think magic isn't supposed to be fully understood." _It would take all the magic out of magic,_ she thought.

"Take care that you do not come to see your ignorance as a virtue," Arya warned. "That is beneath a Rider."

"It's too late for talk like this," Helena complained. She did not see ignorance as a virtue and she had been doing her best to understand _how_ her new powers worked since she received them, just not _why_. "At this rate, I might drop you by accident." She turned to Angela. "So where do you want me to put her."

Angela looked up to Arya. "Your room or my room?"

"My room."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

After dropping of Arya, along with her book on advanced potion making – the one that had once belonged to Snape – Eragon and Helena made their way back to the Dragonhold with their dragonic partners. Because the Isidar Mithrim was currently lying on the bottom floor, Saphira and Godric – and Eragon and Helena by extension – could now reach the Dragonhold by climbing up from the central chamber through the hole where the gem used to be.

The next day, Helena and Eragon both woke up by themselves, having no idea just how long they had slept. The light coming from the top of Farthen Dûr let them know that it was day, but not much more than that.

"It's three in the afternoon," said the man on watch who's only job seemed to have been, 'sit outside the caves and wait until the Riders wake up.

Helena groaned. Having slept until so late in the day was going to play merry hell with her sleep rhythm. "Ajihad wanted you to report to him as soon as possible," the man on watch, a human, continued to say.

"Where is he?" Eragon asked.

"In the same room you met him in the first time. He wanted you to, in his exact words, 'use magic to arrive in as short and direct a route as possible'. He said you would know what he meant. I was to leave you alone after delivering my message." He left.

"I think he meant for you to teleport us," Eragon said once he was out of earshot.

Helena agreed and looked to Godric; he had slept as long as she had. _'Do you mind if we go alone?'_ Considering her stunt yesterday, she knew that she was on thin ice when it came to Godric.

 _'Go, but come back here afterwards,'_ was all Godric said. Helena noted with a pang of hurt that he hadn't called her 'dear one' ever since the incident with the slavers. They had worked through that problem, but it had still left a mark. There was now a sense of caution where before there was the assumption of similarities and constant agreement between them.

"Grab my hand," Helena said, and Eragon did. Their perception of space twisted and in the next moment they were dropped in Ajihad's office, only barely managing not to fall by grabbing the top rail of a stool and the table.

Ajihad was there, writing on a piece of paper, though he dropped his pen in surprise at their appearance. "I knew you were coming and how but there is no way to prepare for that." Helena noticed that he had pulled a knife from somewhere, though he sheathed it immediately under his desk once he saw there was no threat. "When you reported to me yesterday, you told me that the Star Sapphire broke, but now it looks whole, yet the first dwarf who laid eyes on it almost started weeping. Care to explain this one to me? _"_

"I repaired it." Helena looked for an example and quickly picked up a small pencil from the table, snapped it in two, and immediately repaired it with the mending charm. "Though Angela warned me that for some reason it didn't work that well on the Star Sapphire. I do not know why."

Ajihad clicket his tongue. "The dwarfs do talk about stone being alive, so I guess that makes a small modicum of sense. You will probably be summoned to Hrothgar to explain what happened to him personally. Still, both your reputations have grown more positive amongst the dwarves so I don't foresee any problems." He leaned forward. "Expeditions have been planned to hunt the fleeing and remaining Urgals. I need to know if you will join them."

"I will help," Eragon said immediately, but the question had been directed more at Helena then him.

"My heart won't be in it," Helena said by way of answer. "And Godric might object to me going anywhere dangerous without him."

"If you decide not to go, then there are still plenty of other tasks where your powers could be useful."

"I have an excellent sense of smell." Or at least her husky form did. "I could help track the Urgals better than anyone."

"Does that mean you _want_ to go?"

Helena pursed her lips, thinking about her answer. "I feel it is where I need to be, even if I don't want to kill them." The tunnels was where the danger was and she was better equipped than anyone, save Arya, to deal with it. _Perhaps I could simply scare the Urgals into running away faster?_ She knew that was optimistic at best but one could hope.

"If you show yourself, I am sure they will attack you. Remember, you are not killing innocents, but Urgal warriors who often make a habit of raiding any human or dwarven villages."

"Alright, I get it," Helena said in annoyance. She still wasn't comfortable, but now that she had decided to go, she wanted to stop arguing.

"Very well, report to the practice field within an hour and a half. Your dragons can decide for themselves whether to come. Not all tunnels are large enough for them but some are," Ajihad blinked and studied his desk, a thoughtful look on his face, before turning back to the Riders. "We have to talk about who will be in charge. Would you accept Orik? Or will you insist on leading yourself? I would advise against it since you don't know the area and lack experience."

"I am fine with Orik," Eragon said. "But I hope you are not expecting Saphira to let herself be ordered about."

"It is the same for Godric," Helena said. "As for myself, I can work in a team, but. . . well, you already know my reservation."

"It will be up to you to inform Orik of your misgivings, and he will get final say of whether he will permit you joining the mission or not. Orik is a reasonable man; he'll listen."

xxxxxxxxxx

As Godric had asked of her, Eragon and Helena apparated back to the Dragonhold before doing anything else.

They had enough time for a brief stop to Arya and Angela before grabbing something to eat and leaving for the practice field where they would meet up with Orik. Helena considered visiting Nasuada as well, but her cell was further away and she wasn't sure they had the time. Eragon also didn't know the black skinned woman very well and so didn't have a lot of reason to go besides accompanying Helena. So Arya it was. Fortunately, the elven princess's room was among those large enough to accommodate a dragon, barely, so the four could go together. They found several signs of yesterday's battle as they traveled, blood stains, broken furniture, and scratches on the walls; they showed that some of the Kull who had gotten in didn't all retreat without a fight. The group encountered no others on the way, likely they were all doing work outside. It made Helena feel like the precaution of apparating directly to Ajihad's study had been unnecessary; who had they been hiding from? Now that she thought about it, she wondered why Ajihad had requested it at all. Did Ajihad just want to make sure that he talked to them before anyone else?

It was yet another testament to the work that needed doing elsewhere and the losses they had taken that there were no guards outside of Arya's room. Eragon knocked twice on the door and Arya told them to come in.

The elf was sitting on her bed and already looked a lot better than the last time they saw her. Her skin was less pale and the cast had been removed from her leg. Angela was sleeping on a sofa with a blanket over her. Solembum was lying on a cushion on the ground, though he was awake.

"I am glad to see you, but if you came because you are worried, don't be," Arya said. "I will be fit for duty given two more days of rest."

"We had time," Eragon gave a small shrug.

Solembum jumped from the ground to the sofa and onto Angela's torso, walked towards her face and started prodding her with his paws until she woke up. Selumbum jumped out of the way of Angela's hand as it tried to swap the werecat away as if he were a fly. The herbalist tried to shake herself awake, blinking fiercely; she almost looked almost like a cat herself in that moment. Her eyes fell on the Riders and the dragons behind them. "Hello Eragon, Saphira, and– ah good! Helena, I wanted to talk about that book you gave me."

"You can't have finished it already," Helena said with one eyebrow slightly lifted. Even Hermione wouldn't have been able to finish a book that fast, though she might have gotten halfway.

"No, but I noticed a few errors in the parts I did read."

"I find that unlikely." This was the same potions book that allowed her to impress even Slughorn.

"When you take the forked tongue of an adder, hemlock, and two leaves of nightshade you don't get a poison for the wasting sickness as the book claims; you simply get an explosion when the nightshade's and hemlock's opposite properties interact. Though if you were to add a little salt and vinegar you actually get the cure for the wasting sickness."

"I never had to make that particular brew." Why would she want a poison for the wasting sickness? "But the book has never been wrong before."

"Believe what you want. The book has still given me some interesting ideas, and with your permission, I will note any other mistakes in the margin when I find them."

Helena remained skeptical, but she also thought Angela was a better potioneer than she. "Thank you. I assume you made Skele-Gro."

"I wanted to, but I suspect I know some of the ingredients under different names. What in damnation is a Chinese Chomping Cabbage?"

"It's a magical cabbage that chomps on other vegetables if it gets the chance, and originated from China which is a country back where I come from."

"No wonder I never heard of it," Angela muttered. "Do you also have a book with herb lore on it since I doubt I will be able to find substitutes for whatever is in this book without it?"

"Sure," Helena pulled out her pouch, put her arm into it up to the elbow, and called for her copy of One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi. "Here," she placed the book on a writing desk. "Don't let the title fool you. It also covers normal plants. I don't actually know how many magical plant species grow in Alagaesia, so that might be a problem." It was something she had worried about on occasion. If some of the ingredients she needed didn't exist here, then she would eventually be unable to make those potions. If that happened, she would either have to restrict herself to potions she could make with what was locally available, or suddenly become good enough at potions to find substitutes.

"In the meantime, I gave her something to speed recover, not instantly regrow bones like the book claims this _Skele_ -Gro can do, but it would normally get her back on her feet in a week, but well. . . elves." Angela shrugged as if that word explained everything, which it did. "As Arya said, she will be back on her feet in a day."

"I have some porridge stored away if you haven't eaten yet," Arya offered.

"I should probably object to you disturbing my patient," Angela interjected. "I won't. But I should." The herbalist gave both Eragon and Helena an amused look, waiting to see if they would leave or stay.

Eragon and Helena shared a look. "We could just take a bowl with us?" Eragon suggested.

"How responsible of you," Angela cooed.

"One more thing, when do you think we will leave now?" Helena asked Ayra.

"As soon as the aftermath of the battle is dealt with," The elf answered. "I estimate four days or so, but I cannot be sure."

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Eragon and Helena, with Saphira and Godric flying overhead, were walking towards the practice field when the twins intercepted them. They bowed in deference, but they made sure to block the Riders path so that they couldn't pass without going around them and being rude.

"Greetings once again," they said in unison with thin smiles that didn't reach their eyes. "Congratulations on your victory."

"The victory belonged to us all," Helena said, "and hello to you too." She hoped her tone wasn't as insultingly dry as she feared it was.

"Well met. Do you need something?" Eragon said, his impatience clear. Helena grabbed his hand, hoping it would calm him.

"We didn't press you on an answer in regards to our offer of mutual assistance before the battle to avoid distracting you," one of the twins said before the other continued, "but now things have calmed down. We would like an answer."

"You already know what I think," Eragon said and looked to his fellow rider.

"There is still work to be done," Helena tried to stall.

The smiles on the twins faces grew more forced. "There are rumors abound that you will soon leave us for Du Weldenvarden. Surely you wouldn't leave without giving a reply?" That had been exactly what Helena had been hoping to do. Ajihad was right, saying no to those asking for help is no easy thing. "If you wish to refuse our offer, have the courage to say it."

Helena gritted her teeth, unsure of what was the right thing to do. She still believed in sharing knowledge and so should help the magicians of the Varden. The problem was that she _really_ didn't like the twins.

 _'You told me you would refuse the offer,'_ Godric reminded her.

And that settled it. "I am sorry, but there just isn't time before we leave to continue our training."

The twins exchanged a look. "A shame," they said together and shrugged. "Then we will continue to look elsewhere to improve our craft." The twins walked pasted them in an arc, each on different side of the Rider pair. Helena felt her hackles rise as they walked past as if she were being surrounded by Slytherins, but the twins continued walking and the moment pasted.

Helena tried to put the encounter out of her mind as they continued walking to the practice field. The cleanup had begun but they had obviously not gotten far. The dead still lay were they had fallen, but some men were busy dragging all the Urgal corpses into one large pile, likely to be burned. Nobody seemed to have touched any of the human or dwarven corpses yet. The sickeningly sweet smell of the dead repelled any others from gathering near it unless they had to or were looking for the faces of their friends. Even from over a hundred feet away, Helena still felt like gagging, and she pulled the hem of her robe up to her nose. Perhaps it was vain of her, but, unlike Eragon, she had left the outfit she had worn during the battle behind and worn her usual robes instead. As long as she didn't forget to apply any spells to it, the protection it offered was almost as good.

They found Orik along with a mixed group of humans and dwarves near a small hill. Both he and the group of strangers hailed the Riders enthusiastically. As soon as they were close enough, all of the men insisted on shaking their hands and introducing themselves. Helena did her best to remember their names, but there were over twenty of them, and by the seventh, she knew it was hopeless.

The dragons landed near them, causing everyone but their riders to back away a few steps.

Orik look worriedly at Saphira and Godric. "We have a small– euhh a large problem." Orik smiled at his own wit. "Most of our. . . relatively recently build tunnels are great enough to accommodate a dragon – as long as they are not twice as big as Saphira. However, when the dwarves first went underground, it was to protect ourselves from your kind," he said to the dragons in an apologetic tone. "Those tunnels are naturally a lot smaller. If the Urgals have fled into those older tunnels, which they might, then you won't be able to follow."

Helena addressed Godric with her voice, briefly lowering her robes below her mouth to do so. "And in those close quarters, even in the larger tunnels, you won't be able to maneuver well if we are attacked." Though to be fair, she likely had no reason to worry. Yesterday, both dragons had quite thoroughly demonstrated that Urgals were no match for them, and she doubted that having a little less room would change that. Besides, both dragons were still wearing their armor. Helena didn't know how long it would be before Godric's armor decayed into nothingness, but she figured she would have ample warning.

 _'I will be fine. Tell Orik that we will accompany you as far as possible,'_ Godric told her.

Helena relayed the message.

Orik briefly looked like he was about to make another objection but thought better of it. "Then we have everything that we need. Grab your things men."

"Actually, could I have a moment," Helena whispered under her breath to the dwarf. He looked at her curiously and told his men to wait while they walked a short distance so they could speak privately.

"What is it?" he asked. "If it isn't urgent, we can talk along the way; we won't be encountering anyone for a while.

"It can't wait," Helena said and then explained her hesitance about killing fleeing enemies.

As she had expected, Orik looked at her as if she had lost her mind. "They are monsters."

Helena felt so tired of hearing that, and arguing against it, knowing that it wouldn't change anyone's mind. "At end of the battle, some of the Urgals were willing to stay behind to give others the chance to get away. No creature that is capable of laying down one's life for another is without redeeming qualities."

"They attacked us and we defended ourselves."

"And we won and now it is over."

"They wouldn't have shown anyone else such mercy."

"So we are no better than them?"

"Bah! Then why are you even here?"

"I have reservations, but the danger is out there," she motioned towards the tunnels, "so I need to be there. I may yet do some good and save some lives." She had to try.

"So what? You will come with us but you won't fight."

"I will defend you and myself if attacked, and I can track the Urgals by sent, but I would prefer to simply chase them away."

"That is not your decision," Orik said firmly. "We have been ordered to hunt down these Urgals; that is our mission. Are you going to help us with that or not."

"And I am telling you that I will not kill an enemy that surrenders or has given up, yet I am willing to help keep you guys alive and help in any other way I can."

Now Orik simply looked confused. "So you won't kill them yourself, but you will help us get them and protect the ones who will kill them instead?"

That did sound hypocritical of her now that he spelled it out like that, but it was the best compromise she could come up with.

"I will do what I feel is right," she said.

"You are not going to intentionally sabotage us are you?" Orik asked suspiciously.

"Of course not." Though she would be lying if she said that thought hadn't occurred to her. "Now are you willing to take me along, despite what I said, or not?"

Orik seemed to think on it and then sighed. "This is why women don't fight in war; your hearts are too kind for this sort of work. But aye, you can come. Only a fool would turn aside help from someone with your powers."

While annoyed about the comment about women, Helena didn't question it since she _had_ gotten what she wanted.

With that settled, Orik gathered all his men and set out for the tunnels. They went around what had been the battlefield so as to avoid having to walk past all the corpses, though there was no avoiding the smell.

Orik halted when they came upon the stone statues that stood sentinel over the tree tunnels.

"Can you repeat what you did last time?" he asked Helena with badly concealed excitement.

The question had weighted on her mind as well, so she stepped forward and laid a hand on one of the statues. It wasn't Korgan or any other king she reconsider.

 _'There is still work to do,'_ she tried to communicate, though there was no mind to receive her. there hadn't been a mind last time either, but that hadn't stopped something from responding _. 'There is still a war to fight.'_ " _Piertotum Locomotor,"_ she chanted.

Everybody looked up to see if those grey stone eyes would turn red again, but nothing happened.

Helena turned around and gave Orik an apologetic look.

He didn't seem upset at her failure, quite the opposite in fact. "Then it truly was a miracle," he said. All the dwarves of their party, about half, were just as awed as Orik and even the humans – including Eragon – looked a little shaken.

Helena let them have their moment. It wasn't like she disagreed that it had been a miracle, though she was less moved by it. This wasn't the first miracle she had witnessed after all. The luck she had received over the years certainly bordered on the miraculous; her continued survival probably counted as a miracle.

After a low inpatient growl from Godric shook everyone out of there reverence, they continued forward through the middle tunnel. The dragons went first so they could push the rubble and burnt corpses out of the way.

"We are not the only group who is being sent out," Orik said once they were on their way. "The Urgals are likely to scatter into smaller groups. If not, they might tear each other apart like starving rats fighting for a scrap of meat."

"Then how did they gather such an army in the first place?" one of the humans that was walking close to the front of the group with Orik and the Riders asked; it sounded like a complaint, which was fair enough. Ted, Helena thought his name was.

"The Shade was controlling them," Eragon answered, and then he seemed to realize that he had said something that might be taken as a defense of the Urgals if you squinted. "And Galbatorix likely promised all kinds of plunder and slaughter if they cooperated," he added.

Helena couldn't resist poking a little. "Or we do not know them as well as we think we do."

Eragon gave her a dry disapproving look but didn't argue further.

"These stone roads rarely lend themselves to making footprints, unless there is a great deal of dirt, but with the lack of wind, a scent trail can linger for a long time," Orik spoke. "Other groups will be sent out with hunting dogs to make sure the Urgals do not leave the caves in any way that would leave them close to any villages, though I fear we will still see an increase in Urgal activity in the Valleys."

"Would they not simply seek to return to their own homes?" Helena asked, and suddenly wondered if Urgals even had homes as humans would understand it.

"Some will, hopefully, though we don't know where those are," Orik answered. "The point is, while other groups will go where we fear the Urgals would go, with the dragons' noses, we can follow them more directly."

The dragons could follow a scent trail just like Helena's animal form could, albeit not as precisely. As long as the dragons' senses were sufficient, Helena decided she would remain human for as long as possible; she could think better that way.

They continued walking for what felt like a long time. Back in Tronjheim and the surrounding flats, you at least had the light of the crater above to indicate time; here you only had your own guesses to rely on. The lamps that had so far been omnipresent throughout the dwarven structures grew scarcer and the decorations that were carved into the tunnels that they had seen when they first entered the mountain were absent as well. It gave of the feeling like these tunnels were seldom used. They were lucky that Orik had had the foresight to take a few lanterns to carry with him. The men traveling with them talked amongst each other, and with Orik, but mostly left Eragon and Helena alone. This gave the young witch and the red dragon plenty of opportunity to talk, or more accurately, chastise and be chastised; Eragon had already called her on her foolishness, but evidently, Godric also wanted a turn.

 _'Did your promise to not leave me behind mean nothing to you?'_ he asked scathingly.

 _'If I could have taken you with me, I would have,'_ Helena tried to defend herself.

Godric's voice remained angrily _. 'You could have forced your magic against the wards on the front door and drained it of its power. You might have even been able to weaken Durza that way if he was responsible for those enchantments, which he probably was.'_

 _'I was under a lot of pressure,'_ she responded sullenly. _'I already admitted that I was wrong and that I was sorry. What more do you want?'_

 _'Sorry doesn't mean anything if you don't alter your behavior accordingly. I have accepted that you view your own life as expendable in the pursuit of heroics, but that doesn't mean you get to sell your life cheaply.'_

 _'I agree and I am sorry,'_ she repeated. Suddenly, Helena grimaced as she felt a sharp headache coming up that caused her to put one hand against her temple. As sudden as it had appeared, it vanished a few seconds later.

 _'The next time I suspect you are about to act out like that again, I will sent a spike of pain through your mind just like I did just now to stop you,'_ Godric warned darkly.

 _'I thought Brom said that our bond makes it impossible for you to attack me like that?'_ Helena complained. In truth, her own self-recrimination made her feel like she deserved a little pain. If she didn't, she would have responded with anger or much more hurt at a mental slap like that instead of some sullen whining.

 _'Evidently, if it for your own good, I can. If that doesn't work, I will physically restrain you; even if you end up scraping your little knees in the process.'_

 _'Yes Dad.'_

 _'Act like a little child and you get treated like one. I am beginning to think that Saphira might have gotten the more sensible Rider after all. . .'_

Godric continued to rant at her for several minutes. Amongst the various aspersions to her intelligence Godric threw at her, Helena learned that Saphira's opinion of her had sank somewhat, though she didn't know how much. Eventually, it reached the point where Helena throat clenched painfully and her sight was getting blurry with tears.

Godric, being extremely attuned to her emotional state, noticed immediately and softened its tone. _'I just worry about you.'_

'I know, and I am sorry,' she apologized for what felt like the hundredth time today. _'I just hate disappointing people.'_

'You haven't disappointed anyone,' Godric lied, and because of their bond, they both knew it was a lie. _'You will learn; I'll help you learn. I also should have reacted faster and stopped you.'_

 _'Taking part of the blame won't work.'_

Now Godric felt bad for making her feel bad which in turn made Helena feel even worse.

After informing Orik, she decided she would spend some time in Godric's saddle. She resorted to an old coping mechanism; writing in her journal. It had been a while since she had updated it, not since before Gil'ead. It was difficult writing from Godric's back; the bobbing movements making it hard to hold her self-inking quill steady, but she made do. Her recounting started out as a simple summary of events, rather than a first person perspective or medium that allowed her to vent her frustrations like she usual did. This was largely due to many of the events feeling like they happened too long ago, making her feel more disconnected from them. This gradually changed as the events became more recent. She was always mindful of the possibility of the little book – thought it was enchanted to have endless pages – falling into untrustworthy hands, so she made sure to use vague terms when referring to sensitive information like Murtagh's father. Yes, the book was enchanted to make sure that only she could open it, but those could be broken.

As she wrote down an abridged version of the conversation with Ajihad, she wondered if she could have handled it better. The answer, she decided, was not by much. Yes, it could have gone smoother, but the overall result was as good as she realistically could have hoped for. Arya turned out to be trustworthy enough to be shown her memories without issue, and it would no doubt help convince the elves that she wasn't mad when she told the story of how she came to be here.

The audience with Hrothgar was another matter, though after some consideration she decided that that – while it hadn't gone well – it also couldn't have gone better. They hadn't been called before Hrothgar to talk, but to listen, and to answer questions. If she had defied expectations by talking back to the king, that wouldn't have made Hrothgar like them more, as satisfying as it might have been for her. _'No, letting him do his little tirade against Riders without complaint and later prove him wrong with deeds is probably better,'_ was what Helena ended up writing down.

The relationship with Eragon was difficult to put into words, though she did her best, and the recollection of what few moments they had had time for finally improved her mood after Godric's lecture.

Before she started writing down how best to describe the battle of Farthen Dür, they stopped at a crossroads were the large tunnel they were in split up into several smaller ones and one large one.

 _'They split up here,'_ Godric told her. _'Every single one of these roads have the smell of these goat men.'_

Helena glided down from the saddle and transformed so that she could smell what the dragons were smelling. She discovered that the majority of the Urgal army was still together and followed the largest of the tunnels, but smaller groups of less than a dozen had braved the smaller ones.

She shared her findings with Orik.

"We are too small a group to risk going after that largest force," Orik said.

A large snort from Godric and growl from Saphira showed what they thought of that idea. Godric's snort expelled a large plume of black smoke from his nose and almost threatened to choke those caught in it before Helena vanished it.

Orik looked at Saphira and Godric. "There are likely still thousands of Urgals in that army; and you don't have any room to maneuver."

 _'And I doubt their magicians are still trying to catch us alive,'_ Eragon silently added, addressing both dragons.

 _'But if we follow one of the smaller groups, then I won't be able to follow,'_ Godric complained, watching the small tunnels with baleful eyes. _'Although. . .'_ Godric lowered himself to the ground and tried to move through one of the smaller tunnels, ignoring Orik's protests. Helena was slightly worried but didn't think there was any harm in trying, so long as Godric didn't go far. He didn't.

Godric had managed to squeeze his body through, barely, but it left absolutely no room to turn. He had to awkwardly shuffle backwards to get out, getting a chuckle out of a few of the men and Saphira made the strange coughing growl noise that passed for laughter among dragons .

"You are not going in there," Helena said out loud. "You can hardly move a muscle. You won't be able to catch anything, and will be vulnerable to any ranged weapons."

 _'I don't like where this is going,'_ Godric grumbled.

 _'I don't know what I can tell you,'_ Helena responded, grimacing at both his feelings and her own. _'You know I can't stay behind.'_

 _'I know how you feel,'_

Saphira suddenly butted into their mental conversation. Helena knew for a fact that the female dragon hadn't been listening in, but it wasn't hard to guess what the conversation had been about. _'But Eragon will be with her, and I don't foresee them running into anything they can't handle together. So long as they don't take leave of their senses again.'_ That last part had been directed at Helena and had a warning note to it.

 _Considering that caution will diminish my chance of having to kill anyone today, I shall gladly take that bit of advice to heart,_ she thought. She wasn't sure if either of the dragons had heard that thought; the line between thinking and talking was very thin when you were mentally connected.

Orik had taken out a map and laid it open on the ground. "The second tunnel to the right is the only one that leads to a habitable zone – a small outpost that Tronjheim uses to trade with the surrounding villages. That needs to be our priority. We will send word to the garrison at Tarnag and Galfni to be on the lookout, and warnings to the smaller hamlets. That is the best we can do for them. With our numbers, we can only deal with the smaller groups. If we are lucky, that largest group will run into the reinforcements Hrothgar called in case the Urgals had decided to lay siege to us instead of attacking."

The knowledge that they were going to protect a place where people lived did a lot to clear Helena's doubts as to the morality of her current actions, and she led out a relieved breath. She crouched down next to Orik and tried to make sense of the map; it was trying to depict a 3D labyrinth of roads on 2D map, so it wasn't easy to read. "Is there a way we can herd them somewhere harmless?"

Orik shot her an annoyed look, "I will never risk dwarven lives to spare Urgals, however. . ." his shoulders sagged in exasperation, "if you feel that strongly about it, you can have one of the other smaller tunnels. Some of the possible ways those road can surfaces is in the middle of nowhere. Can you tell exactly how large a group are in each of those tunnel?"

 _I suppose I should be grateful for even this much._ After briefly turning husky and sniffing the tunnel entrance that Orik said was a priority she answered, "no less than seven, no more than nine." She repeated the process for each of the other tunnels and her answered varied from one that had as many as twelve or maybe even thirteen to one that had only two.

"You can have that one," Orik said, pointing at the leftmost tunnel; one that only had four different Urgal smells. "If the map stays here, then Godric might direct you through it?" It sounded like a question, and Orik looked expectedly at the red dragon.

 _'Tell the dwarf he is correct,'_ Godric told her and Helena did so. She had no idea why dragons were usually so reluctant to talk to anyone except her, but it was their decision.

"I'll go with her," Eragon said, his voice brokering no disagreement.

"Will the two of you be enough?" Orik asked worriedly.

"We took down more last night," Eragon said with a hint of arrogance. "And if there is one thing I am good at, it is hunting."

"You will still take six more men with you to be safe," Orik declared. "I will take the rest and make sure these creatures don't hurt anyone."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Helena prowled in dog form, trusting her nose to guide her in the pitch black darkness of the cave. The lanterns that had been scarce before were completely absent now. It had taken her a while to convince the others of her plan. _'I will do it for you,'_ Eragon had said, and with two Riders agreeing, the others fell in line.

She could see that behind a corner, a light source was shining; dark shadows fell on the floor in large moving lines. She soundlessly reversed her transformation and crouched behind the corner, took a breath, and with one large step stepped into the light. Her hand was already outstretched by the time her eyes adjusted to the light of the lanterns the Urgals were holding. Their backs were still turned so they likely hadn't heard her move. _Perfect,_ she thought. Doing her best to see the group of Urgals in front of her as a single unit of people, she casted her spell. _Timoreo,_ she chanted in her mind. By the time that the Urgals turned around, she had already started to transform again.

The spell struck true and their eyes widened and they all yelped in fear. 'Timoreo', or the 'Fear Charm' as it was commonly called did exactly as the name suggested. It was one of those spell that could be casted as either a normal charm or as a true dark curse. In this case, in both versions, the caster will appear like a terrible monster to the target, a monster that the caster must visualize in his or her mind. The dark version lasted a lot longer than the normal one and forced the target to experience fear directly, and it required a desire to inflict true terror in one's enemies. The normal version simply caused an illusion that was as scary as the caster could make it. Needless to say, Helena was using it as a simple charm. The location worked for her in this case as a dark rarely used tunnel is exactly the kind of place were one would expect to encounter a scary monster.

Now, realistically speaking, a human – even one as physically unimposing as Helena – is many times more dangerous in a fight than a dog and that was ignoring the possibility of magic. A dog may have larger teeth and more relative muscle mass, but simple size and weight mattered. Unless the human is somehow paralyzed by fear or indecision, the human will win almost any physical fight with a normal dog. Yet for some reason, a dog barking with his or her teeth bared is more fear inducing than a human yelling bloody murder – at least for most. Helena had no idea why, but she knew it was so.

Helena's husky form normally mirrored her unimposing human form in how singularly unthreatening she looked. The best word to describe her animagus form would be 'domesticated'. Unlike her godfather's feral looking grim, her husky form was the kind of dog that children begged to be allowed to pet and girls made 'aww' sounds over.

To the Urgals who were now looking at her, however, it was a different story. Her soft dark and white fur had grown stiff and wild, at least were it wasn't missing entirely, showing yellow diseased flesh beneath. Her normally bright green eyes now had a sickly and demonic quality to it. Drool flowed freely from her jaws. Her lips and part of her cheek had vanished so as to make her jaw more visible like a cruel parody of a smile. Teeth that were normally short and white were now yellow and almost reached her jaw like some vampire dog. Her normally neatly trimmed claws were now as long as a werewolves' and as yellow as her teeth.

Helena barked and jerked forward. The Urgals turned and fled as she had hoped they would. She chased after them; they ran about as fast as she could, so she didn't need to fake trying to catch them.

Eragon was waiting at the next T-section, having cast a small illusion of light on one of the turns they didn't want the Urgals to take. To the Urgals – and to anyone else since this illusion wasn't based on the targets mind, unlike Helena's own spell – there was only a continuation of the wall without any turns. Timing their plan so that both Riders caught the Urgals between them hadn't been easy, but with Eragon and Helena communicating telepathically, it was just manageable.

As for the six men that had been send with them, Ted, Hall, and Bohle – since Helena had made extra sure she knew the names of those whose lives she was risking – were running behind her. They had been placed there to help her incase the Urgals decided to fight instead of flee. The others – Whilmar, Greg, and Paul – were with Eragon.

For the first time since Helena could remember, one of her plans worked exactly as intended and without any complications. That time she outflew the _Hungarian Horntail didn't count since that wasn't technically her plan, but Barty Crouch's. The four Urgals fled in exactly the directions Helena wanted, and when she stopped chasing them – though she kept barking – they kept running and didn't turn around until they were out of sight._

She stayed transformed as she walked back to Orik and the others to more easily navigate the darkness of the tunnels. This left poor Eragon to answer questions from their companions as to why she was a dog because 'that wasn't in any of the legends.' He responded with, "I doubt all of the Riders' powers made it into the tales," which was true but also incredibly misleading.

 _I didn't know Eragon could lie like that,_ Helena thought. Then she remembered that he had fooled her when they first met as to his identity.

When they returned they had to wait several minutes for Orik and the rest of their group to return. Orik had several bloodstains on his mail shirt, as had three others. They all seemed really proud of themselves; smiling and talking animatedly with each other. Helena felt her heart grow leaden again, and a whine came unbidden from her husky form.

 _'Godric,'_ she called out to him. ' _I am beginning to suspect that I am not cut out for this.'_

Helena felt Godric mentally sighing. _'That is why you have me, and why I don't want you ever going into battle without me.'_ She felt a spike of anger from Godric that wasn't directed at her, though she had no idea who he could be angry at. Galbatorix maybe? _'Don't worry about it,'_ he said, likely having overheard her thoughts.

Over the next few hours, Helena tackled only the tunnels that had one or two Urgal scents on them. With such a small number, Orik felt comfortable sending her out on her own. When she caught them, it was a simple matter of stunning them and apparating them near a spot that was close to the exits. One could almost smell the fresh air at the spot she had chosen, even in human form, so it was doubtful they would wander in the wrong direction. Rather than feeling satisfied, the endeavor just made her feel hollow, like she was just assuaging her own guild. Her own allies – Eragon included – were murdering those who were no threat any longer and she wasn't stopping it.

It was a relief when Orik said that they were returning to Tronjheim. Unlike the rest of her companions, Helena was quiet during the return trip. Eragon had looked at her face and flinched away from her expression. Helena hoped he was feeling guilty.

When they emerged back on the flats outside Tronjheim, they noticed that a large group of people had gathered near the same exit that all the noncombatants had used to flee before the battle. Helena suspected it were in fact the same group of people.

"Are we free to go?" one of the men with her asked Orik. "I am sure my sister would want to know I'm alive. She'd pull my ear off if I leave her to worry." A mumble of agreement went through their group as most also had someone that worried for them.

"You are all free to go," Orik said. "I will give my report to Ajihad. Go offer your assistance with the clean up if you want to make yourselves useful." The men scattered, some walking or running towards their kin that had returned to the city, a few moving towards Tronjheim. "The same goes for you," Orik said to Helena and Eragon, "though we do want you to keep yourselves available. Or you can come with me; I am sure Ajihad will have some other task for you, if you are up for more."

Ajihad did indeed have plenty of other work for them. Since she had shown her ability to repair items with a word, she could go around Tronjheim and repair whatever was damaged when the Kull and Durza invaded. Several stone archways, the front gate, and a few fragile pieces of artwork that had been destroyed out of pure spite, were the most valuable of the items that needed a strong Mending Charm.

Tunnels that she had helped close needed to be reopened.

The corpses of friends needed to be laid to rest and the corpses of enemies needed to be burned. Helena learned from Ajihad that the Varden and Hrothgar's forces together had lost 1104 people in the fighting, not counting those who were now too crippled to fight another day. When she heard the news, Helena knew she should be appalled by the number, but to her it was just that, a number. They were strangers. _There must be something wrong with me. I can feel sympathy for my enemies yet when I hear about my own losses, I am too jaded to mourn the dead,'_ Helena had thought to herself.

She needn't have worried though, when she heard the wailing of those who couldn't find their loved once among the living, she felt plenty of sympathy.

* * *

AN: This chapter was a chore to write. In canon, Eragon was unconscious for the aftermath of the battle, so we never actually saw any of it, only hearing about it afterwards. I found that I hate writing aftermaths almost as much as I love reading them. This is the first time when I started writing a chapter where I had no plan of what was supposed to happen in it. Or perhaps I am just making excuse because I didn't want to stop playing Hearthstone? Meh, it's done now.

Anyway, I forgot to put a recommended story last time, didn't I? I am going with ' **Inoue Shiori'** by Hermionechan90. It is a SI romance set in the Naruto universe with Kakashi as the pairing. It's unashamedly corny and I love it. Also one of the few Naruto stories where the MC isn't a ninja.


	23. Allies? (part 5)

**A special thanks to CerealReader for going over and correcting the many mistakes in this chapter. Even after checking for mistakes twice myself, I still can't seem to find half of them. Dyslexia is a bitch.**

* * *

Three days later Helena finally made time to visit Nasuada in her 'cell', though she didn't lack for comfort. Besides a single guard in mail, there were also two unarmed men playing some board game on a nearby table whose only purpose was, in their own words, 'making sure the lady has all she needs'.

Helena was led into the cell without protest, Eragon walking in right behind her.

They found Nasuada cleaning up a writing desk. It had obviously seen a lot of use the last few days, considering all the papers and letters that were scattered all over the table. "It is good of you to visit," Nasuada smiled. "The servants outside have two more stools if you want them, or you can just drop yourself on the bed." Not caring where they sat, both Helena and Eragon sat themselves on the bed. After pulling of her boots, Helena pulled her legs on the bed into a cross-legged position. Eragon, after shooting a look at Nasuada to see if she would object, followed his fellow Rider's example.

"The servants keep me well informed, but I would still like to hear from you what has been happening outside my chambers," Nasuada began, having pulled her chair around so she could look at them. She had started out sitting with her legs pressed tightly together and making a slight angle with her hands resting on her lap, but after seeing how Helena and Eragon made themselves comfortable, she pulled one leg up on her stool with one arm resting on her raised knee and the other arm resting on the table with her elbow. Helena wondered if she was just doing what felt natural or if Nasuada had finally figured out that neither Rider responded well to formality.

"The tunnels are almost completely cleared. Ajihad is currently leading our last expedition. He has taken Murtagh with him as a show of faith," Eragon said. "They are supposed to be back soon."

Helena had spoken briefly with Murtagh and she wasn't surprised when he wanted to hunt the Urgals in the tunnels; disappointed, yes, but not surprised. She also suspected, and hoped, that he was now seriously considering to join the Varden. The only problem was that Murtagh's parentage was still being kept a secret from the general public and he was still afraid of how everyone would react. They had to make sure that that information would be spread in a controlled manner, possibly by herself and Eragon so they could vouch for him.

The corner of Nasuada's mouth lifted. "So it is _'our'_ expedition now is it?"

"We shed blood together," Eragon defended, looking slightly hurt at the question.

"No, no, no, I am pleased," the black skinned woman hastily reassured. "You have more than earned the right to call yourself one of us, even if neither you nor Ajihad officially recognize anyone's authority over you."

"Arya has been spreading the tale of how Durza died. She has been stressing the fact that Durza was at our mercy and that I _gave_ the kill to her," Helena said. "I think she wants to distance herself from the achievement and give it to me."

Nasuada was unsurprised. "Very likely. Your reputation is more important than Arya's, and it isn't like she is lying. That is what happened, isn't it?"

"Yes," Helena admitted unhappily, "but only she could fight Durza head on. All Eragon and I could do was stall."

Nasuada looked amused. "So you did not save everyone from the Star Sapphire by destroying the floor, and you did not raise the statues, or drain Durza of his power, or cast the spell that saved both you and Arya from the evil spirits' vengeance?"

Helena looked away with a disgruntled look.

Nasuada went from amused to full on teasing. "Perhaps there was another reason why you allowed Arya to strike the killing blow, hmm?"

"Shut up," Helena said, sounding petulant. That hadn't occurred to her at the time, but she wasn't complaining about the lack of increase in fanboys. Even without the Shade-slaying, both she and Eragon already had enough of those. Speaking of. . . "hey, I wanna ask you a question."

"Ask."

"How do you deal with a woman coming up to you asking permission to name their daughter after you? Because that happened." Even the whole Girl-Who-Lived thing wasn't this bad. _Although. . . ,_ she corrected herself, _there were a surprising number of Helens, Hellios, Helenus', and Elanors in the younger years in Hogwarts._

"You say that you would be honored," Nasuada said, smiling. "It won't be the last time."

"Two more people came to me asking for blessings," Eragon complained haggardly. "Orik asked me not to make any more scenes, so I didn't know what to do."

Helena also had that happen to her, only it happened six times. Recalling the answer she gave Eragon when asked about that scenario, she had given the 'the courage you show by asking this of me is more blessing than anything I could say' answer. They had stared at her in awe as if they had never heard anything that wise. Helena feared that they soon would realize that she was just pulling shit out of her arse.

"What _did_ you do?" Nasuada asked Eragon.

"I just said that all who fight Galbatorix have my blessing," Eragon answered with a small shrug.

Helena's head snapped to Eragon at his answer. She wished that he had told her, though they hadn't had much chance to talk these last few days. Eragon had gone on a few more patrols in the tunnels while she remained behind to help however she could in Tronjheim. _I am so going to steal that line,_ she thought. It was also such a simple thing that she wondered why she didn't think of it herself.

"That was wise," Nasuada said, echoed Helena's thoughts. "A general blessing like that won't cause favoritism and still satisfies the request."

"Your own popularity has risin when the story of how you snuck back into the battle became known," Helena said, smiling in approval. "Good job on that."

Nasuada let loose a decidedly unladylike snort. "I doubt my father or Sabrea would agree."

"Your father definitely," Helena confirmed. "Sabrea though. . . I was there when she apologized to Ajihad for losing you like she did. She didn't seem angry at you, though, just angry at herself and exasperated by you. She was definitely worried when she came back."

"She has known me since I was a child," Nasuada shrugged. "How are the dwarves handling your miracle with the stone kings?"

"I don't know if they think it was _my_ miracle. It was just a miracle; they don't give me the credit for it." Which was fine with her. "We have been getting a lot less scowls thrown our way though. Especially after I helped lift the Isidar Mythrim back toward the top of Tronjheim." That had been the most difficult thing she had done these last couple of days, and took almost the entirety of the second day. She had privately questioned the merit of making the restoration of the Star Sapphire a priority over so many other things that needed doing, but the dwarves were adamant. Her new more powerful magic had been pushed to the breaking point during the task. Even as she was giving all she had to lift the damn thing, even with all the weight altering charms that she knew, the dwarves and Godric still needed to help out by pulling long chains that were bound around the gem and reached all the way back to the Dragonhold. They had succeed, eventually, and hopefully whatever odd feeling of hollowness that emanated from the gem after her Mending Charm would soon begin to fade. "I think Hrothgar is planning to hold a feast to celebrate; both Eragon and I and our dragons have been invited."

"I hope you are not planning to do something stupid like refusing to attend."

"Nah." She wasn't _that_ stupid and nothing urgent that needed doing. Besides, she could do with a little revelry after the last few days.

They spoke further about everything else that had had happened. Nasuada shared the story of how she slipped back into Tronjheim; she seemed really proud of her herself for it. Unlike Helena, Eragon had continued to hunt in the tunnels, so he explained what happened there. Several of the Urgal clans had gone their own way once they were out of immediate danger, and Eragon and the Varden had managed to catch and eradicate several of them. The three main groups of Urgals that had decided to band together had all managed to escape, to Eragon and Nasuada's frustration and Helena's quiet relief.

Helena came back to the topic of what to do with the many people that come to her for wisdom and advice. She wasn't Dumbledore!

"You are going to have to get used to it," Nasuada said, shaking her head. "The word 'wise' is the second thing people think of when they hear Rider, the first being powerful. Even if you never take up a leadership role, people will still come to you for direction." That wasn't what Helena wanted to hear, and Nasuada seemed to read that on her face. "These are questions you should ask your teachers with the elves, or maybe my father. The questions you ask of me are those I often ask myself. Wisdom will come with experience."

"I have experience," the witch grumbled. If experience was wisdom then she was Merlin.

"And what does your experience tell you?"

"Do whatever feels right." That hadn't always worked for her, but it was all she had.

"Then tell them that. They come to you because they think your thoughts are more important than their own, but if you tell them to trust themselves, they will. And be prepared for when what they decide is different from what you would have done in their place. If you tell them to decide for themselves, you lose the right to complain when they do exactly that."

Helena was impressed. "Perhaps they should be asking you for advice instead?"

"What makes you think they don't?" Nasuada replied with a grin. "My father isn't always available to answer questions, but I know his mind better than anyone."

They talked for a little while longer, more to pass the time rather than because they had anything left to discuss.

It ended when Eragon got that vacant look in his eyes that indicated he was talking to Saphira. "Saphira says that _Jörmundur_ is looking for us."

"The Dragonhold?" Helena inquired. That was where most people go to look for them when they weren't in public.

"Tronjheim's west gate," Eragon corrected. "He says it's urgent, so maybe you can. . ." he shot a meaningful look at Nasuada, "move us there?" By how his features tightened, it was clear that making the suggestion pained him.

Helena turned to the only person in the room who didn't know what Eragon was talking about. "I can move great distances in a short time." She vaguely explained her ability to apparate; she was done with secrets at this point, though she would refrain from giving details. By now the element of surprise was likely over anyway.

Nasuada's surprise quickly turned to shock and Helena raised a hand to stall any questions. "No, it isn't as invincible as it sounds. For now, short jumps only, and it leaves you disoriented for a moment."

"I see." Nasuada made a dismissive gesture with her hand. "Well if it is urgent you better get going. Remind Daddy dearest that I exist please? I don't want to stay here longer than necessary."

Suddenly there was a spike of– not panic but of danger and urgency coming from Godric. From the way Eragon tensed, it was the same with Saphira.

Eragon and Helena moved their arms around each other's backs, and together they vanished.

They arrived amidst screams and shouts. If it wasn't for Godric directing her attention, it likely would have taken her several seconds to find the source of the crisis. Two miles away from their position, yet clearly visible due to the flat terrain, a mixed group of men and dwarves were fighting a much larger force of Urgals. Helena recognized the spot as she had been the one to both close and later open the tunnel that opened up there. It had been one out of many such tunnel openings that she had either collapsed or restored, so she hadn't exactly been paying it any special attention. This mattered since it made apparating there a chancy prospect, though the direct line of sight would help.

Godric and Saphira were already racing towards the fighting, having left their Riders behind in their haste.

 _'Godric,'_ she pleaded, hoping that he would understand.

 _'I know; just wait to see if Saphira and I can reach them before trying something risky.'_ Godric shared his vision of the battle with her to keep her informed. Immersed as she was in another's senses, she was barely aware of people running past her. Someone shook her shoulder, "Helena!" It was Eragon. "Can you get us there?"

"If the dragons can't get there in time, I will," she said, still focusing on Godric's red tinted vision. _  
_  
Helena watched as men and dwarves tried to mount a defense against the surprise attack, but the Urgals used the advantage of numbers to surround the group, pressing the defendants inwards with wooden shields. In the middle of that mass of bodies she saw Ajihad's gilded armor. She also noticed the twins fighting side by side, both wielding a scimitar each. She didn't know who Murtagh was since he was wearing similar armor to what all the other humans were wearing.

She saw one man after the other cut down and it was obvious that they were losing, but they didn't need to win; they just needed to survive for the two minutes it would take Godric and Saphira to get there. Saphira had already passed the halfway mark, Godric trailing behind her. It looked like they would be able to hold out, but that didn't mean they wouldn't take tremendous casualties in the meantime. She longed to jump through space and time to reach her allies and stop the killing, but Godric kept urging her to wait. _'Just a little longer, I'm almost there. Just a little longer I'm almost there. Just a little longer, I'm almost there,'_ he kept repeating like a mantra.

A swirl of mist surrounded the combatants, blocking them from view. She hoped it was some trick of the twins to stall for time and not some enemy magician. Her hopes were dashed however when the mist cleared and only four humans were left standing amidst dozens of Urgals – Ajihad, the twins, and one more person that she thought – hoped – was Murtagh.

She couldn't wait any longer, and cursed herself for waiting as long as she had. Space twisted. Helena disappeared with a pop of sucking air, and promptly ran into a barrier. It was immediately apparent to the young rider that this barrier was a lot weaker than the one that Durza had used. This turned out be a bad thing, since rather than fully repelling her, as if she had run into an impenetrable wall, it felt like she suddenly slammed into a powerful storm while on a broom.

She exited back into normal space as fast as if she had been running at fifteen miles per hour.

One thing that they thaught you to do in flying lessons was how to properly fall on the ground. This was something she had practiced further during Quidditch practice. She reflexively relaxed her body and moved her arms in front of her face, or tried to anyway; only her right arm succeeded in going where it was told to go. Her fall was too uncontrolled and sudden to turn into a tumble roll, but she was at least able to turn sideways before she hit the ground, landing on her shoulder instead of her face. When she came to a stop, her shoulder burned from where it had scraped against the dirt ground. She hissed and instinctively tried to grab her hurting shoulder with her other hand, but found that it had gone missing. Her black/purple robe had torn itself at her left shoulder, showing that where her left arm used to attach itself to the rest of her body was now only a stump of red spiraling flesh. The ground had also torn a hole in her robe at her right arm where she had scraped against the ground, showing torn red flesh with brown dirt clinging to it beneath.

Helena gritted her teeth and tried to ignore the pain and searched for the sounds of battle. There was none to be found. Instead she found the group of Urgals retreating back into the tunnel, leaving a small field of corpses, including their own fallen, behind on the field. Several of the Urgals paused and locked eyes with her, but then they looked up. Helena followed their gaze, and found Saphira and Godric, their forms growing larger as they drew closer. The Urgals seemed to decide that there was no time to capture or kill her before the dragons were on them and hastened their retreat.

 _'Don't even think about following them!'_ Godric yelled in her mind.

Helena had no intention to. She twisted her right arm at an angle so that her palm was pointed at her wounded shoulder. _"_ _Aguamenti_ _."_ She hissed in mixture of relief and pain as water streamed over her flesh. At the same time she tried to lift the long skirt of her robe with her other hand to see if her knees were also scraped, but again found that her left arm was missing. She didn't feel any stinging at her legs, nor were her clothes torn there – just very dirty – so if she had wounds there, they likely weren't worth worrying about.

Saphira landed on the ground near the tunnel with a large booming sound. She stepped in front the tunnel and launched a great jet of fire into the tunnel opening, though Helena would be surprised if it more than singed the Urgals at that distance.

Godric landed near Helena and covered her with his wings protectively, though she doubted any threats remained. _Ajihad likely thought the same,_ she chastises herself.

 _'How badly are you hurt,'_ Godric asked her, and she could feel her own pain resonating through him.

 _'It hurts, but it's just a flesh wound,'_ she said and tried to wobble to her feet, using the straps of Godric's saddle as a support. _'I'll need to go get my missing arm back.'_

There was something she needed to do first though. After checking to make sure her legs were ok, she ran towards the field of dead to see if anyone was still alive, Godric staying close to her side.

Then, before she could reach the first corpse, Arya was there. Grimacing over the body of Ajihad. His breastplate was caved in and torn in several places and blood leaked from between the links of his chainmail. Helena hastened her walk to a jog when she noticed that he was still breathing, if erratically.

"Can you save him?" Helena asked the elf. The smaller woman knew that she didn't stand a chance herself; Brom's death had proved as much.

"This is beyond me," Arya said regretfully. Her eyes widened as they fell on the one-armed woman. "Your arm!"

"Don't worry about that," Helena replied in an unconcerned tone that indicated it was truly nothing worth worrying about.

A pained _'aahhh'_ escaped from Ajihad's mouth, blood leaking from the corner of his lips.

After one doubtful look at Helena, Arya crouched near Ajihad. Helena following suit.

 _"Who– ahhss– Who?"_ he tried to say between pained gasps. Arya looked at Helena, urging her with a look to speak.

"It's Helena. Helena and Shadeslayer," Helena said quickly, and moved her head closer to Ajihad's to better hear his words.

"Helena," Ajihad whispered, and turned his head slightly so he could look at her. "I have an order for you– you and Eragon, and– and a plea."

Despite having always believed that Ajihad held no true authority over her, she didn't hesitate now, "I hear you." Besides, a dying man's words were to be respected.

Through labored breath the leader of the Varden talked. "You must promise me something: promise that you... won't let the Varden fall into chaos. I know… know that you have your doubts about us. My plea… my plea is that you believe in us, the way we– the way I believe in you." Helena suddenly felt like shit for having acted as obtrusive as she had. Ajihad continued speak; his voice so soft it was barely auditable. "The Varden are worth serving, worth saving, and loyalty. Promise me… promise me you will protect them."

There was only one possible answer to give. "I swear it."

"Then may the gods watch over you both. . . Eragon Dragonheart and Helena Lifebringer." Letting out a last breath, Ajihad closed his eyes for the final time.

Helena forced herself to speak feeling inappropriately calm. _This should be harder; I should feel sadder._ She forced herself to think of some words to say. "May your next adventure be less difficult than this one was. You earned your rest." Arya also said some words over the body in the Ancient Language. Behind her, Saphira led out a mournful growl.

'This was a man worth respecting,' Godric said in a solemn voice. _'I take it you intend to honor his last words?'_ Helena gave the equivalent of a mental nod. _'You could interpret those words as taking command ourselves,'_ Godric tried hopefully.

 _'I doubt that is what he meant, and it isn't how I see it. No more struggling with our own allies. We are all one team, even if some refuse to see it that way.'_

 _'I can't say I like the thought of servitude. I like our independence.'_

 _'We will still have plenty of influence if that is what you are worried about.'_

A hand touched her shoulder, and Helena found herself looking at Arya. "Alas, Ajihad's death will cause much strife. Without a clear successor, a power vacuum now exist in the Varden's leadership. The Varden can ill afford to be divided. We must all do what we can to avoid such a power struggle."

Words of a successor naturally turned Helena's thoughts to the man's daughter, who still sat in her cell, ignorant of the knowledge that she was now an orphan. _'I need to go get her,'_ she informed Godric. She received understanding from her partner.

"I'll be right back," she said. Ignoring Arya's questions of where she was going, the witch stood up and – after checking to make sure that the barrier that had thrown her before was gone – disappeared with a pop.

Suddenly she appeared in Nasuada's own cell, causing the dark skinned woman to jerk with surprise in her chair.

"Your arm!" Nasuada exclaimed.

Helena didn't explain her missing limb. "Take my hand," she said instead. After seeing that the other woman wasn't complying immediately, she added, "please?" Something in that word, or perhaps on her face, must have swayed her since she took her hand without further protest. Helena grabbed the other woman's arm to be sure and disappeared with a pop.

As expected, Nasuada didn't handle her first _Side_ _-_ _Along_ apparition well and collapsed on the floor, dry heaving. When she collected herself and looked at the field of carnage she abruptly found herself in, she jerked again with a frightened 'eep' and shot a look at Helena that pleaded for an explanation. The witch merely pointed. A high pitched scream followed, and a few seconds later, Nasuada was shaking her father and pleading the corpse to wake up.

The sight finally pierced the feeling of numbness from before and Helena found her own eyes watering. She tried to swallow to remove knot in her throat to no effect.

 _'Helena!'_ Saphira cried in her head, and the young woman was glad for the distraction. _'Neither Murtagh nor the twins are amongst the dead.'_

What?

'Do Urgals even take prisoners?' she asked.

Saphira ignored her question and focused on what was important. _'Murtagh may yet be alive. He is Eragon's brother. We cannot abandoned him!'_

"I–"

Every second they wasted, the chance of rescue grew slimmer, but this felt like apparating into Tronjheim unprepared all over again. _'Godric?'_ she called out, hoping that he would have some insight.

 _'You can't run in your Husky form with a missing foreleg, so you can't go tracking them yourself. Ask Arya to go after them if you must,'_ he counselled. _'She is faster and stronger than you and her senses are sharp.'_

Helena found Arya staring at her missing arm again.

"By your lack of concern, am I right in assuming you can reattach your missing limb without problem?" Arya asked her when the witches focus fell on her.

"Not easily and I have never done it before, but yes," Helena answered before sharing Saphira's observation. "Can you safely fight so many Urgals?"

Arya pondered the question. "Fighting and safety rarely go together, but yes, I believe I could do this thing."

"Will you?" Helena asked pointedly.

"There isn't much you could ask that I would be able to refuse," Arya answered with an almost confrontational tone. "I will see what I can do." And with that, the elf darted forward into the tunnel. She moved so fast that Helena could feel the wind brushing against her skin as Arya moved past her.

 _'Eragon says thank you,'_ Saphira told Helena. _'He also regrets that you left him behind.'_ There was an accusation in there.

 _'As did you,'_ Helena pointed out, though she understood why Saphira couldn't have afforded to wait. _'And considering how I botched the spell–"_ she showed of her stump. "– you should be grateful that I left him behind." Who knows how much Eragon would have lost if he got splinched alongside her? Splinching got even more dangerous if there were multiple passengers. Arthur Weasley had once mentioned a memorable story of two people who traded their arms and feet for the other person's legs and hands and vice versa.

 _'It isn't my feelings that you should concern yourself with,'_ Saphira said before jumping back in Tronjheim's direction, and towards the group that was running towards them. If Eragon wasn't amongst the first to arrive, Helena would be surprised.

 _'Please warn Eragon about my arm,'_ Helena asked Saphira. _'I don't want him freaking out.'_ She received a feeling of confirmation in return.

Nasuada noticed the new arrivals too. With obvious difficulty, she stood up and tried to compose herself, using her own fine dress to wipe her eyes and nose. When Helena saw this, she handed her a handkerchief from her pouch.

"Thank you," Nasuada said and her voice was composed and even again. Only the red of her eyes testified to the fact that she had been crying.

"Did he have any other family?"

"None worth talking about," Nasuada said stiffly, before her eyes widened in surprise. "Don't tell anyone I said that!"

Helena tried to raise a calming hand, but – since she was standing shoulder to shoulder to Nasuada's right – once again encountered the problem of her missing limb, and she awkwardly had to turn to use her dominant right hand instead. "Not a word," she promised.

Eragon was indeed one of the first to arrive, running at the front of the group and nearly crashed into his fellow Rider. Instead he wrapped her in a hug so tight it was as if he was scared she would vanish into thin air. While strong, it didn't last very long, and Eragon took a short step backwards and places his hands on Helena's shoulders. "You can't just keep disappearing off on your own like that! What if you had encountered an Urgals magician– or shaman or however you call them."

Unbidden, a smile appeared on Helena's face. It was nice to be worried about. Eragon misunderstood, however, and he scowled at her. "This no laughing matter!"

"I know. That's not it." The rest of the group had arrived, so she had to wrap this up. "I am sorry, and you're right. Later, ok?" Helena shot a meaningful look at Nasuada and Jörmundur, the former being busy accepting condolences and the latter kneeling over Ajihad's corpse lamenting his failure to protect his liege and swearing bloody vengeance on his killers.

"Later," Eragon agreed. "Murtagh?"

"Missing. Arya will bring him back." At least Helena hoped so. She briefly thought about mentioning that the twins were lost as well, but honestly, and though she knew it was wrong of her, she couldn't bring herself to care and knew Eragon wouldn't care either.

Orik had joined the group, having lagged slightly behind the rest. Dwarves were just as strong, if not stronger, as humans, but their shorter legs did make them slower runners. When he noticed the scene, he made a despairing sound that was part groan part shout, putting both hands on his temples. "A disaster. The Varden won't know any peace after this."

"They will," Helena called attention to herself. "I swore to Ajihad that we would protect the Varden."

Orik wasn't the only one who heard her proclamation, and many people looked a little too excited for her liking. Helena feared what she had just said may be misinterpreted. A worry that grew stronger as Nasuada shot her a brief fearful look. _She wants to rule,_ Helena realized. _Might even consider it her birthright._ Helena's thoughts about birthrights were. . . complicated.

Within Helena's mind, Godric was groaning. _'You shouldn't have blurted that out like that. Correct this misunderstanding before it spreads out of control.'_

"We will find someone fitting to fill Ajihad's shoes." And just in case she wasn't being obvious enough. "Someone who doesn't need to leave for Ellesméra to finish their education." Voilà, there was no way she could make it any clearer.

The excitement sizzled out, and a few people – Nasuada, Orik, and Jörmundur chief among them – looked relieved.

"I take it you heard his last words?" Jörmundur asked.

"Yes, but it's personal and I will be the judge of who I tell and when."

"Fair enough. Where is Arya? She ran out ahead so she should be here." After a pause he added. "And what happened to your arm?"

"I left it behind; I hope it's still where I last had it." The fact that she was treating it so nonchalantly was obviously having an effect on why nobody else was freaking out about it. Helena also briefly explained who was missing and Arya's absence.

"She should not have gone and you should not have asked, but there is naught we can do about it now," Jörmundur frowned. "We will post guards outside the gate and arrange for an expedition if she doesn't return soon, but for now we must see to the dead." The Varden's second in command shot Nasuada a pitying look. "Your composure does you credit child, but none of us should be afraid to let our sorrow flow freely across our faces," He swapped his gaze over all who were present," for this is sad day, and our tears show that we care. The anger will come afterwards and we will have our vengeance, but that is for later. Ajihad died a warrior's death, and the gods will grant him every honor, and we will do no less. Come, lift your shields up my friends, shoulder to shoulder so that we may still give Ajihad the honor procession that he originally called us for, though it won't be a joyous occasion as he had hoped."

Some of the warrior knelt briefly, said some prayer, some wept openly, some didn't and had closed-off faces that showed no emotion despite what Jörmundur said. All were silent however, and when necessity demanded they speak, they did so in hushed voices. The sight of so many hardened warriors being unashamed to show their emotion encouraged Nasuada to do the same and she cried silent tears. She was also able to secure a spot among the front of the procession that carried Ajihad back to Tronjheim, borrowing a shield to help bear Ajihad's body. Eragon did the same, though he chose a spot to the side so he didn't stand out as much and to make it easier to walk next to Saphira. Helena wanted to join in, but all those who carried shields on their shoulders needed to be of a similar height for it to work, and she was too short.

It did leave her free to pick up her missing hand along the way. She found it only a dozen or so yards away from where she had disapparated, crawling blindly over the ground by using its finger like a really inefficient worm. If it wasn't for the healthy pink look of the arm, it could have been mistaken for a reanimated corpse arm. It had still attracted a large crowd that was watching the arm in a mix of fascination and horror. One particularly brazen woman with a golden bracelet shaped like snake was even prodding the flesh with a stick. Thankfully, said crowd soon turned its attention to the mournful procession, allowing Helena to summon her missing limb to her hand. Her wayward arm immediately calmed down upon being reunited with its owner, though it would take her a while to figure out how to reattach it to her shoulder. The women that had been prodding at the arm was the only one that payed enough attention to notice that the source of their recent focus went flying. She looked like she really wanted to question what in the blazes that was, but had enough social skills to know that a funeral procession wasn't the right time.

And it was a funeral procession, Orik later told her. They would pause at the Tronjheim's south gate where they would guard the body until a proper resting place could be agreed upon.

When it was over and guards had been set to guard Ajihad body, Jörmundur motioned for Helena to join him and Eragon. "I wish that we had more time to grieve, but we of influence must act quickly if we are to avoid a power struggle. If you think you are up for it. . ." he trailed of as he shot a meaningful look at Helena's arm. "Are you sure you shouldn't be more worried about that?"

"Nah. I know it is possible to fix it; I just don't know how yet. Besides, my arm is still connected to my body," her left hand gave a little wave as if wanting to prove her point. "They are simply at different places right now."

"Your magic is weird Helena," Eragon commented dryly.

Jörmundur shook his head as if to banish the tangential topic from his mind. "In any case, I invite you to join me and the other councilors as we debate on who is lead us next. Whomever it is will absolutely need your approval."

Eragon frowned. "Surely, we can wait for at least one day, or until Arya returns."

"You can if you want to," Jörmundur reassured. "We could summon you tomorrow and inform you of our deliberations, but if you find yourself disagreeing with our choice, it would be an. . . inconvenience. Besides–" Jörmundur showed a sly smile. "– do you want us to discuss this without you present."

And with that last sentence, Helena realized just how much trust Jörmundur was showing at this moment.

 _Keep them safe._

"I will be there," Helena said, and after shooting a pointed look at Eragon, he agreed too with a, "As will I."

"To be honest, we don't have an excuse not to be there," Helena added. "I can tell that Ajihad was good man, but I only knew him for a short time. He had my respect, but three days and about five conversations is not enough time for friendship." Suddenly, she thought of Ron who had become her friend in a single train ride, but that was a special case. An eleven-year-old girl who has never known friendship will cling to the first person to show her an ounce of kindness and never let go. She had often wondered if Ron and she would be as close as they were if he hadn't decided to enter her compartment that day. The answer, she had decided, was yes; Ron and she had more in common than many would assume.

Judging by Eragon's expression, it was clear he didn't agree with her. Jörmundur seemed to understand however. "Sad but true, and Ajihad considered your respect more important than friendship regardless. If there is nothing else, then we meet in about two hours at –" Jörmundur gave them directions.

"There is one more thing. Before he died, he named me and Eragon as Lifebringer and Dragenheart. I have never heard those before?"

Eragon blinked at the new name and Jörmundur's face was a mix of amusement and grief. "Typical. Both of you need names befitting of your importance; something we can inspire people with. Several names have been bandied about – those two amongst them – but nothing had been decided yet. But a man's last words have power, and are not easily ignored. It makes sense that Ajihad would do his best to support our cause even in his last moments. I'll make sure that your new names become known."

And with those words, Helena found herself looking back at Ajihad's dying words with a more cynical look. _Did he give me those words, knowing that I wouldn't be able to ignore them?_ If Ajihad told her to serve the Varden in any other circumstances, she would have felt more resilient. _He probably did. . . I suppose it doesn't matter._ She had already made up her mind to do her best to heed the dying words.

"Dragonheart?" Eragon whispered. "Why? It sounds impressive, but I don't recall anything I did to be worthy of such a name."

"It was likely because you stood up to both Ajihad and Hrothgar to defend your friends. You have a good heart, but you will passionately fight for those you hold dear. Those were Ajihad's words, not mine. With those names we can–"

"No," Eragon interrupted, using that stubborn tone of his that indicated this was something important to him. "Dragonheart is a name fit for a legendary hero. I haven't done anything yet to deserve such a name."

"Ajihad planned to use it to inspire people," Jörmundur repeated. "They were his last words."

"I know, but this is wrong. It is bad luck to claim or accept an honor name that you didn't earn. This is a mummers name meant to make me sound more impressive than I actually am and I want no part of it."

Jörmundur was clearly unhappy with that, but he relented. "As you wish." He looked at Helena as if expecting her to object as well.

"Why lifebringer?" she asked.

"Well it sounds impressive, which was the most imperative, but by claiming that name, you are taking credit for the miracle of the stone kings. And you _were_ responsible for that where you not? So you can't say you didn't earn the name."

"Yes, but won't the dwarves be angry about that?" Helena wondered.

"It will ruffle some feathers," Jörmundur admitted. "But the majority will accept it. It would help if you could use a similar magic again in the future. . ." He trailed off.

"I can make a teapot dance if you want," Helena offered

Jörmundur frowned. "I was hoping something more impressive, but it is better than nothing. Show them that you can bring something to life, and –"

"I can't." She interrupted. "No magic can create life; only something that _looks_ like it is alive."

"Then do that." Jörmundur didn't snap at her, but he was obviously annoyed at being continuously interrupted. "Now I have more work to do. If you will excuse me?"

 _Is he asking us for permission?_ "Sure." _Or is he just used to being a subordinate?_

As Jörmundur left to go do his own thing, Helena gave Eragon her best coquettish smile. "You turned down a great honor because you thought you didn't deserve it." She pushed herself up to give him a quick peck on the lips. "Have I ever told you that I find integrity an attractive quality in a man?"

Eragon's smile was so silly and happy that it made him look very much like a young boy rather than the man she had called him, but he soon schooled his features back into a serious expression. "This isn't the time for that. It is a sad day, and it would be disrespectful."

"I suppose that's true," Helena admitted. She had just wanted to show Eragon that she approved of his decision. Next, she shared Ajihad's last words with Eragon and what she had decided to do about them.

Eragon approved. "We have enough enemies already, and these are the same people that Brom was a part of. He wouldn't have joined the Varden if he didn't trust them. If they are good enough for him then they are good enough for us." Helena wasn't surprised by that.

"I am sorry about Murtagh," Eragon said.

"He isn't dead yet; Arya is strong, she can get him back." A pause. "Besides, he was– is your friend too, isn't he?"

"He is," And she did worry about him. "But he is your brother."

"That still feels strange to me. Roran is my cousin, but I saw him more as a brother. I still see Murtagh more as a friend than real family." Eragon clicked his tongue. "I wish I knew, that if Murtagh had heard what I just said, whether he would feel relieve or sadness."

"You will get the chance to find out," Helena tried to reassure him.

"I've seen too much tragedy of late to really believe that, but this time, I would love to be proven wrong."

xxxxxxxxxxx

Two hours later they found themselves standing in front of decorated stone sliding door that moved in and out of the wall. The room was located in a part of Tronjheim that was too small for the dragons to reach, so Eragon and Helena were alone.

Helena had used the little time they had until the meeting to treat her scratch wounds and quickly skim over the chapter in her book on restoring spliced limbs. It was normally something reserved for the ministry department for magical disaster to do, but she only had herself to rely on now. She had been very fortunate that the arm she lost wasn't the arm with the _Gedwëy Ignasia;_ otherwise she would have been well and truly lost. The chapter on splicing warned her that under no circumstances was she to start scratching the wound. Helena hadn't even realized that her wound was itching until the book called attention to it. _Just lovely, and it's supposed to get worse the longer this goes on._ Apparently, if she damaged the spliced tissue too badly, it would lose the connection to her arm and her left arm would die permanently. She could have sworn that her left arm – which had been lying on a desk next to her book at the time – had shivered with fear as she read that part.

As funny as it would have been to shake people's hands with her severed arm and watch them freak out, it would be impractical to always carry an arm around with her, so she left it behind in her cave, sternly telling it not to go anywhere. Besides, doing weird magical things to enjoy how muggles react to it came too close to muggle baiting for her comfort.

Because they suspected this was going to be a formal meeting, both Riders had done their best to make themselves presentable by washing the dirt from their bodies and putting on new clothes. As a nod towards their respective dragons, Eragon was wearing a warm woolen tunic with a blue cloak tied around his shoulders like a cape with a golden brooch in the shape of dragon – he had gotten all of that when he requested a servant to bring him something more appropriate to wear – while Helena had switched her black and purple robes for red and white ones, though it was otherwise identical in style. Without her left arm, the left sleeve of her robe hang empty at her side.

After they were dressed, when Eragon saw himself in fine clothes in a mirror, he paused to stare for a long moment. He didn't need to say that he didn't reconcile himself in his reflection; it was written all over his face.

When Eragon opened the door, they entered a moderately sized square room painted with warm orange colors. Empty bookcases covered the left side of the wall, a circular marble pedestal with a hardy looking plant stood in the right corner. Three comfortable looking couches where arranged in a triangle in the middle of the room. Jörmundur was sitting alone in one of the couches, while the other two were occupied by two other men – one tall, the other broad-shouldered – and the other by two women – one of whom Helena recognized as Sabrea, though she wore a lot more makeup than when she last saw her.

Helena vaguely recognized the two new men since they fought in the battle of Farthen Dür, though neither had been one of those giving commands if she remembered it correctly.

The location combined with the slouched way all five of them were sitting gave this gathering a very informal feel to it, which was surprising to say the least. All five of them had somber looks on their faces.

What was also surprising was that Nasuada wasn't here. Helena had shared her expectation with Eragon that, despite Nasuada's grieving, she would still want to be present when the next leader of the Varden was chosen. Her absences caused the Rider to shoot each other a wondering look.

It was Eragon who posed the question. "We had expended to find Nasuada here."

With the exception of Jörmundur, everyone seemed surprised at the appearance of the Riders and they now sat more stiffly.

"Forgive me Riders," the tall man spoke smoothly, "we did not expect for you to join us." He shot a look at Jörmundur, correctly guessing that he was the one who invited them.

"Ajihad wanted them to be included whenever important decision concerning the Varden were to be made. Until we have a new leader and he– or she, tells me otherwise, I will continue to execute Ajihad's wishes," Jörmundur explained before addressing Eragon's question. "We did not inform Nasuada of this meeting. I thought she deserved at least one day to herself before we trouble her; this latest tragedy has hit her harder than any of us, though I admit I had another reason for not inviting her as well."

 _Did he perhaps not want a rival to be present?_ Helena wondered to herself. She had already pegged Jörmundur as one of Ajihad's most likely successors.

"Perhaps you could introduce us?" The woman that Helena didn't know suggested.

"Of course," Jörmundur said, "As you all know, these are the Riders Helena Lifebringer and Eragon." He turned towards the Riders. "Eragon. Helena. We are the council of elders." Helena noted that none of them could truly be called elderly. "You have already met Sabrea," the named woman offered them a nervous smile. "Next we have Elessari, a close personal friend of king Orrin."

"Pleased to meet you," Elessari offered them a practiced smile and stood up to shake their hands. "The fate of Surda is closely tied to that of the Varden and the inverse is also true."

"Nice to meet you," both Eragon and Helena offered politely, both already resigned to the fact that they would now have to personally greet every important person that they didn't yet know.

"Next we have Umérth," Jörmundur continued, motioning towards the tall man. "The head of the Varden's treasury."

"That is my official title," Umérth gave a self-deprecating smile. "Most people know me as the Varden's chief beggar. If you would just sit down that would make shaking your hand a lot easier."

Both Eragon and Helena had no problem with that. Without prompting, Jörmundur vacated his own seat to join the other two men so that Helena and Eragon would have a couch to themselves. The sofas were close enough together that Eragon and Helena merely needed to lean forward to shake Umérth's hand.

"I did not know you were. . ." Umérth's were drawn to Helena's empty sleeves. "injured during the battle."

"Don't worry about it," Helena knew that as long as she didn't reattach her arm, people would keep commenting on it. "Even if I couldn't reattach it, my left arm is probably the part of me that I need the least."

"Lastly we have Falberd," Jörmundur motioned towards the broad man. "He is our spymaster."

"A name that makes me seem more impressive than I am," Falberd admitted with a disgusted expression. "I read and write letters yes, but most of the credit for our information comes from individual men and women in the empire. Until a few days ago, my task was probably one of the least taxing in the Varden."

"He is being modest, he–" Elessari began, but was interrupted.

"I am also the one who is supposed to discover who has been leaking secrets to the Empire and I have been doing a rather poor job of it." An uneasy silence followed and Falberd looked at his fellow councilors stubbornly as if daring them to say that he wasn't useless.

It was Eragon who first broke the silence. "Were the twins a part of your group?"

"That depends on what you mean by _our group_ ," Sabrea answered. "They were parasites who worked for their own benefit, and everyone knows it. The only reason they were even among the Varden was the freedom we allow our spellcasters. None of us trusted them. However, as the leaders of _Du_ _Vrangr_ _Gata_ , their opinions could not be ignored. If you forgive my saying so, their disappearance will do more good than harm for us, regardless of how talented they were."

"Be that as it may," Jörmundur said before anyone else could comment on the twins. "We are all here to decide who should lead us in Ajihad's absence. We must decide quickly, or I fear the choice will be taken from us."

"How is that possible?" Eragon asked. "I have been told that there might be a power struggle, but if you are all the most highly placed people in the Varden, and you have no intention to make trouble, than what are you afraid of?"

"We are not the only ones who have a say in this," Umérth said. "It is no secret that the Varden are not self-reliant."

"Hrothgar," Eragon guessed.

"Just so," Jörmundur confirmed. "And I am sure that he has his own ideas about who should lead the Varden."

"Like whom?" Eragon continued to question.

"Orik," Jörmundur said, to Helena and Eragon's surprise. "He is well known and liked by the soldiers, but he is Hrothgar's man before anything else. Yet he is officially part of the Varden and thus eligible for the position, and if Hrothgar presses the issue, there is little we can say that wouldn't be seen as being intolerant of a dwarf leading over men. If that should happen, the Varden will become little more than vassals of the dwarven throne."

"Orik is a good man," Eragon said.

"I am not saying that he isn't," Jörmundur defended, "but his appointment would be the end of the Varden as a free army that is master of its own destiny."

"And so we must pick a candidate of our own and quickly," Falberd repeated.

An uneasy silence descended over the group as if nobody wanted to be the first to suggest someone.

Helena decided to be blunt and addressed Jörmundur. "Do you want the position?"

The Varden's second in command scowled. "I want Ajihad to be alive."

"And I want Galbatorix to explode in one of his many magical experiments, but I doubt I will be getting that," Falberd snorted from Jörmundur's left. "The lady has a point. Many would see you as the natural successor, though whether you can be more than someone else's yes man remains to be seen."

Jörmundur's face contorted with rage and he responded to the insult by hitting Falberd in the side with his elbow, hard, though Falberd gave no more than a grunt in response. "I deserved that and I apologize."

Jörmundur took a few breathes to calm himself again, and everyone else relaxed seeing that there wasn't going to be a brawl. "I suppose I could take the position, but I actually had someone else in mind."

Elessari seemed to already knew who he was talking about. "Isn't she a little young and inexperienced."

Helena didn't need to be told who they were talking about, but that made Nasuada's absence from this meeting even more strange.

"Yes, she is," Sabrea answered the question that had been directed Jörmundur, "but the girl has charisma, the brains, and the right of inheritance, though I admit she can be a little rash."

"I did not know the position was hereditary," Elessari said with faux-innocence.

"It isn't," Jörmundur admitted, "but as Ajihad's daughter, many will assume she is just as skilled as he is."

"You are talking about Nasuada," Eragon stated.

Jörmundur spared him a look. "Yes, but there are. . . concerns."

"None can doubt her dedication to the cause, especially not after today, and many will think it only proper that she works to avenge her father," Sabrea said before pursing her lips. "But I am wary of giving her total control of the Varden. She has just suffered a terrible loss and may not be thinking clearly."

Helena was starting to feel uneasy at the direction this conversation was taking. It felt too much like talking badly about a friend behind her back. "What exactly are you suggesting?"

Jörmundur answered. "I am saying that we appoint Nasuada as our leader, but reserve the right to curb her most reckless decisions."

"What some call recklessness, others call bravery," Helena pointed out. Reckless fools was the most common insult levied against Gryffindors.

"Like sneaking back into Farthen Dûr to join the battle?" Falberd asked rhetorically. "Oh it was certainly brave, admirable too in its way and it will have won her some popularity, but I still call it foolishness. For Nasuada to risk herself in battle as she did is like using a very sharp pencil as a dagger. Possible, but that is not its best use. Ajihad made sure his daughter knew how to defend herself, but he never intended for her to be on an actual battlefield, and that was more than just fatherly concern speaking. Nasuada's strengths lie in her mind and her tongue, not her muscle."

"If you have no faith in her then why appoint her?" Eragon asked. "Or do you simply want a puppet?"

"We do have faith in her," Sabrea insisted. "I have seen her work. Nasuada has a charisma and power of persuasion that Jörmundur can't match– no offence."

"None taken."

"But none of us are without flaws and we– or at least I – think we would do the girl a disservice if we don't work to save her from her mistakes. And she will make mistakes; the first time you attempt something new one always makes mistakes."

It sounded reasonable, but Helena wasn't convinced. The way Sabrea used the word 'girl' meant she still didn't see Nasuada as an equal.

"It would take the unanimous agreement of all five of us to overturn one of Nasuada's decisions," Jörmundur said. "And we would even be willing to make that a temporary arrangement that lasts for only four years."

"If you ever do overrule Nasuada, won't that make people lose faith in her?" Falberd wondered.

"We would never oppose her publicly," Sabrea promised. "Unless the very survival of the Varden was at stake. Most of the debating will be done behind closed doors."

"Due to her youth and inexperience, it will be a long time before Nasuada's position as a leader is as strong as Ajihad's was," Elessari said in a way that indicated she was thinking out loud. "She would not risk going against all five of us if it would mean risking her position, or the unity of the Varden."

 _Did Jörmundur really just bring us here so we could listen to how they were going to put a leash on Nasuada? What do they want from us?_ Helena wondered. _Or is it simple curtesy that made him include us as he implied?_

The next few minute consisted of all five councilors making sure that they all agreed that this was what they wanted. Both Eragon and Helena remained silent during most of it, until Umérth finally brought them back into the conversation. "There is something you could do to improve the faith people have in the Varden."

"And that is?" Eragon asked.

"After this latest tragedy the people could use some reassurance. You did well by proclaiming that you would fight alongside us, but it might serve to do so again by swearing fealty."

Helena immediately sat more stiffly in her seat. _'And there it is,'_ she thought morosely. It seemed that her new resolve to be more cooperative was going to be tested sooner rather than later.

Eragon looked to her, increasing Helena's uneasiness. _If he keeps doing that whenever he faces an important decision people will get the wrong idea._

"Won't that create a conflict of interest?" At everyone's confused look she elaborated. "I mean, the Riders are supposed to be neutral arbiters between different groups and races. If we swear fealty to you, won't the elves or dwarves feel threatened by that?"

"I think you misunderstand what the Varden are," Umérth smiled. "We are not just a human interest group. The Varden are – at its core – a group dedicated to Galbatorix's downfall. A goal that everyone outside of the empire can agree with, I am sure. Why would Hrothgar or _Islanzadí_ object to you swearing yourself to such a cause? There are already many dwarves among the Varden and we would certainly accept any elvish recruits if they would be willing to join. You swearing fealty might even convince some of them of that very thing."

Somehow, Helena doubted that everyone would see the rosy picture that Umérth was painting and she didn't fail to notice that everyone in this room was human despite the claim that it wasn't a human interest group. Yet he did make a very compelling argument. _Oh well, in for a knut, in for a galleon._ But it wasn't just up to her, and this wasn't something to be decided in haste.

"May we–" she started to ask if they could be given some time to think when the door to the small lounge flew open.

Arya all but fell into the room, for once her usual grace was nowhere to be seen, and by the harried expression on her face, Helena knew that she didn't come baring good news.

"Did you find them?" Eragon asked, leaning over the back of the couch in his eagerness, not seeing or perhaps not wanting to see the troubled look Arya wore.

Arya hesitated a long moment. "Yes," she answered to Helena's surprise.

The twins calmly walked in the room, there fine clothes covered in dirt and blood.

Both twins had faint smiles on their face that made Helena uneasy. "We are grateful for Shadeslayer's efforts on our behalf, thought they weren't necessary," One twin said before the other continued. "By the time she arrived, we had already killed most the Urgals and subdued the traitor, Murtagh Morzan's-son."

* * *

AN:  
As for the splicing: in canon, Susan Bones losing one of her legs in practice was treated as the most exciting thing to happen during the lesson. They treated it as a joke, so I assume it isn't that big of a deal.

Also. . . clifhanger. Yes, I am bastard, I know.

The recommendation for this chapter will be Chasing Shadows by silencia20. It's a fem!Harry story like this one, though it stars a much younger protagonist. It's a crossover with Naruto, so if you like both Fem!Harry stories (which I assume you do since you are reading this) and Naruto, give it a try.

School will start again in a weeks' time for me. I will try for one more chapter after this (I am not so evil as to just stop after this cliffhanger) before I go on a hiatus. I will still be writing for this story on and off, but I want to start off with some good study habits and keep my focus there. After my failed attempt at university I believe this will be it for me if I fail again, so I don't want to take chances. I also want to build up a surplus of chapters again before posting them like I did when I started off with a one chapter per week schedule, which will delay even more.


	24. Allies? (Finale part)

**This chapter is a month later than I wanted it to be, but well. . . I started school again and I fergot how much of my time that costs. Also, special thanks to CerealReader for continuing to be my beta.**

* * *

From Arya, they learned the full scope of what happened.

The elven woman was able to catch up to the Urgals before they managed to get outside the mountain. The Urgals had attempted to throw her off their trail by leaving torn clothes near a steep cliff to make everyone think the twins and Murtagh died there.

Arya had been naturally suspicious. If they were just going to kill their prisoners then it wouldn't have made sense to take prisoners in the first place. The elf dislodged a lantern from a wall and dropped it into the ravine to see if any bodies lied at the bottom; there weren't any. From there it was just a short run before she caught up to the enemy.

The twins' claim that they didn't need any help was an exaggeration. As Arya arrived, the twins had apparently launched their own surprise escape attempt. More than half of the Urgals died in the first spell that the twins launched but after that, the duo were struggling with surprise no longer on their side and the enemy already in melee range. Murtagh was unconscious at the time. If Arya hadn't arrived, according to her, the twins might well have been killed.

 _Or that would be the case if you took it all at face value._

Once Arya joined the fray, most of the Urgals broke and fled, leaving their prisoners behind. The twins thanked their rescuer politely. They said that Murtagh was unconscious, implying at the time that this was a result of the Urgals and not their own fault. According to the twins, Murtagh had been freed as soon as they were out of sight and wasn't treated as a prisoner, but as an ally. The twins had knocked him out as soon as the battle began.

They walked back towards Tronjheim in silence, Arya carrying Murtagh on her back. The twins picking up their clothes along the way.

It was when they entered the flats outside of Tronjheim and met the large group that had been sent to wait for them that the twins first proclaimed Murtagh a traitor and revealed his heritage at the same time. They did so loudly and before over one hundred men. They also lifted the spell from Murtagh that kept him unconscious for good measure.

It had been all Arya could do to get Murtagh to a cell before he was torn apart by a mob.

"I didn't do it!"

Currently, both Eragon and Helena were at that very cell. One nervous man had tried to tell them that nobody was allowed to see Murtagh, but Eragon ordered the man to not only let them pass but to give them directions. Neither Helena nor Eragon held any official rank, but the order was obeyed all the same. Along the way, they picked up Nasuada as a follower. Someone had clearly informed the prospective Varden leader of what was happening. No words besides 'I'm coming too', were exchanged. Without being sure of what Nasuada thought of the whole mess, Helena wasn't happy to have her along, but she didn't think she could send her away.

Unlike the last two cells, this one was clearly not made with comforts in mind. Murtagh was dressed in rags and chained with metal bands on his wrists to the ground. The chains were long enough to allow him free movement of most of the cell, though they were strained stiff now since Murtagh had jumped to the metal bars at the front of the cell when he noticed their arrival. While Eragon and Helena had been able to use their nebulous rank to bully their way past the guards to get in, they didn't have the keys to enter the cell and had to talk through the metal bars. Helena could likely break the locks easily, but didn't think it a good idea unless she was sure she could remove him from the cell permanently, something she fully planned to do once she had this mess sorted out.

Eragon had set up a spell to prevent prying ears so they could speak freely. "We believe you," the male rider said at once.

If it was a matter of trusting Murtagh or the twins. . . well it wasn't a real contest.

Some tension seemed to drain out of Murtagh at those words. "I suspect you are the only ones who do." He gave a meaningful look at Nasuada, who didn't respond to the wordless question, leaning with her back against the stone wall with a blank look on her face. "I suppose she is here to make sure we aren't working together."

"I am not sure that you are guilty," Nasuada said coolly.

"But you are not sure that I am innocent either."

"I wouldn't go so far as to say that nobody else doubts the twins," Helena said, breaking up any argument before it escalate. "You weren't here long enough to be the one who has been leaking secrets for all these months. The twins have always been suspicious, and this latest stunt hasn't helped them."

"Then break into their minds and have done," Murtagh said curtly.

"When the twins announced to the council their version of events, Falberd – one of the councilors – insisted that, because of the seriousness of the accusation, the twins had to prove themselves by letting either of us into their minds."

"Then why am I still here?"

"It was I who did the inspection," Helena admitted, grimaced. "I saw memories that confirmed their version of events. You were immediately freed by the Urgals as they said. You even had this stereotypical evil sneer on your face and I half expected you to start laughing maniacally."

"That's bullshit! The twins were the ones who were let loose, not me. When they noticed that Arya was hot on their heels they knocked me out and turned on the Urgals so Arya wouldn't realize they were with them all along."

"I told them that it was possible for memories to be faked."

"But you did tell them what you saw in their minds, didn't you?" It was an accusation.

"Well I couldn't just lie," Helena defended.

"No, you wouldn't lie. Not couldn't."

"I'm a terrible liar; they would have known."

"You still should have tried."

"Alright, enough!" Eragon stepped between Helena and Murtagh. "She did nothing wrong."

Murtagh snorted. "Of course, you would take her side."

"Perhaps you are not guilty after all," Nasuada said. "Someone so stupid as to antagonize his only friends while in dire straits could never do something so cunning."

"Considering the circumstances, I shall consider that a compliment."

"Never mind that," Helena dismissed, "How do we prove your innocence?"

"He could have someone read his mind," Nasuada suggested. "That would at least counter the twins' use of their own memories as evidence. It looks really bad when they are willing to open their minds to inspection and you are not."

"No."

Nasuada scowled. "Are you really going to give your life for the sake of pride?"

"Isn't pride the whole reason you are fighting this war? Up until recently, the people in Surda didn't live much better than those in the empire. You just don't want an immortal king lording it over us normal folk."

Once again, Helena found herself disappointed by what Murtagh was saying. "You can't allow an evil to continue just because it's easier to simply endure it or pretend it isn't so bad. You'll never get anywhere that way."

A vein throbbed on Murtagh's neck, and he gave a sharp smile. "You say that I should open my mind? I have a better idea."

"We are open to suggestions," Eragon said.

"You could set me free and honor your promise," Murtagh continued to smile cynically. "You gave me your word that if the Varden ever turned on me, you would protect me."

Helena's eyes grew wide in alarm. _This was going all wrong again._

"What?!" Nasuada exclaimed, being the only one not aware of that promise. She looked briefly at Helena and Eragon before turning back to Murtagh. "You are under suspicious of treason."

"But they don't believe that, and so they can't use that as an excuse not to help me."

"There is no need to be hasty," Helena tried. "We can still prove your innocence and fix this."

Murtagh lost his smile and shook his head with a dull look. "You did not see the look their eyes as I was transported to this cell Helena. The mob has decided on my guild. Whatever chance I had to join the Varden is gone now."

"That's temporary," Helena objected. "People have often looked at me with fear or hate as well and it always passes."

Murtagh gritted his teeth and closed his eyes in thought. When he opened them again and looked at her with wild eyes, she knew that she had failed.

"No. I am tired. I am tired of being assumed guilty, tired of the plots and the schemes, tired of having to prove myself, tired of being pushed to fight for a cause that I have no faith in whether it be for you or Galbatorix." Helena felt her heart drop with every sentence. Murtagh looked into her eyes and strained his chains as if he wanted to attack her. "And most of all, I am tired of that fucking disappointed look in your eyes whenever you look at me."

Helena took a step backwards as if she had been slapped. Her mouth opened to speak but no words came out.

Eragon stepped between them, and came to her defense. "Murtagh, whatever else you may think of her, Helena does want what is best for you."

"She wants what she thinks is best for me, yes," Murtagh agreed. "Like Galbatorix believes he is what is best for the world. Not as cruel no, but just as condescending," Murtagh took a breath to calm himself. "Enough. Please, just enough. I am done. I want out. Free me from my bonds, or know yourself as an oath-breaker."

"Murtagh," Eragon said, taking a deep breath, "You are a bastard, you know that?" Murtagh didn't respond to the insult. "You will have your freedom, and then we won't have anything more to do with you."

"But. . ." Helena couldn't muster any words besides that first 'but'. She just knew that this was wrong.

"We can't force him to stand up for what's right, Helena," Eragon said, not taking his eyes of Murtagh. "He has made his choice, and I am no liar."

And with that, Helena gave up, sagging her shoulders in defeat. She looked at Murtagh in disappointment and this time it was deliberate.

"And you think I will just allow this?" Nasuada demanded.

"Murtagh is as he seems," Eragon said, still not taking his eyes of Murtagh. "A scoundrel, but not a traitor. For him to be traitor he would first need to be loyal in the first place and he has only ever been loyal to himself."

Murtagh gritted his teeth and dropped his gaze to the floor.

"The point is," Eragon continued. "He had nothing to do with Ajihad's murder and we did promise we would defend him if the Varden ever turned on him."

Nasuada was silent for several seconds. "If Murtagh is innocent, then the twins are the traitors." Nasuada grimaced at her own statement. "They were always suspect, but I had dearly hoped they would never turn on us simply because of the difficulty in getting rid of them, not to mention the trouble of replacing them."

Eragon turned around to face Nasuada. "So, we go after the twins?" he asked, sounding almost eager.

"Without proof?" Nasuada returned.

"Besides the twins' word, there is no proof of Murtagh's guilt either," Helena pointed out.

"Yes, and we would not have executed him until we held a trial," Nasuada responded tartly.

"What would that have entailed?" Eragon asked.

"Normally, my fa–father would sit in judgment," Nasuada answered, stumbling over the word father. It still hadn't been more than six hours since Ajihad's death. "Unless a new leader is chosen by that time, the council of elders would judge instead. Hrothgar may also force his way into being one of the judges."

"Can't we do that with the twins?" Eragon wondered. "A trial, I mean. Nobody likes the twins, so the council would rule against them. Or we could wait until you are chosen as the next leader and you can judge them guilty."

"Judging people by how well we like their personalities sets a horrendous precedent. Also, wait until I am chosen?" Nasuada repeated, one elegant eyebrow climbing into her dark hair.

"We will tell you what the council discussed," Helena promised. She had never intended to not inform Nasuada of the council's plots. "But could a new leader judge them guilty?"

"It would damage the integrity of the Varden. The twins did allow their minds to be probed by you, which they will claim as proof of their innocence. Convincing proof too, since you are a Rider and believed to be more powerful than them."

Helena shook her head. "Raw magical power is no indication of proficiency in the mental arts."

"You must strengthen their rivals," Murtagh said. He had gone to sit in his cell with his back against the wall. Eragon, Helena, and Nasuada all looked at him with increasing levels of coldness. Murtagh ignored their quiet disregard and continued. "In politics, if you cannot strike at an opponent directly, then you must empower their rivals. Someone like the twins will have enemies; find them. Alternatively, you Riders can try to publicly denounce the twins. Might be that someone will kill them, just to win your favor." After several seconds were the three others in the room simply stared at him, he shrugged. "That is my advice, take it as you will."

"He speaks sense," Nasuada admitted. "Though he makes it sound easier than it is. The twins never cared for anyone's opinion besides their own because they are the head of Du Vranga Gata and they could, theoretically, just take all the magicians of the Varden and leave, which would spell our doom."

"They have that much power?" Eragon wondered.

"If they actually tried that we – the Varden – would have to use force to prevent that from happening, which would be bad for all involved."

"What about Du Vranga Gata themselves?" Murtagh offered up. "I can't imagine all those magicians being happy with their leadership."

"That has potential," Nasuada admitted again, "but is also rife with difficulties. Du Vranga Gata choses its leader based on power. One of the twins challenged the previous leader to a magician's duel and killed him. Technically, only one of the twins is supposed to be the leader, but nobody can tell them apart so they share the position."

 _Leadership being decided by force, barbaric,_ Helena thought with a disgusted grimace. _But in this case, it can work to our advantage. . ._

"Could someone challenge the twins?" Eragon asked, echoing Helena's thoughts. "Because if so, I volunteer."

"Could work," Nasuada said, "but that would make you the leader of Du Vranga Gata, and you don't have time for that. I suppose that you could abdicate the position, but that would show you as someone that uses his power to bully people you don't like, just like a trial would the Varden if we judge them guilty without proof. Remember, most people don't think the twins are guilty, Murtagh is. Having either of you kill them publicly is not a terrible option, but I think we better keep that plan in reserve. No, I think Murtagh's first idea to strengthen their rivals has merit. Do you have some way or secret to make a magician more powerful."

Helena felt a smile tugging at her mouth. "I think I may be able to kill two birds with one stone with this."

"We should ask Angela," Eragon suggested. "She is always bragging about how much better she is than anyone else."

 _Good point._

"If you really are set on setting Murtagh loose, I'll help you," Nasuada said. "It is not like I have much choice. If you are caught, it would ruin your reputation."

"Thank you," Eragon said. "Indeed," Helena agreed.

"Don't thank me," Nasuada scowled. "I disapprove of this whole thing. I do not like being strong-armed. Now if that is settled, might we take this elsewhere so you can tell me what the council has been plotting before my father's body was even cold?" It was more of a demand than a question. She shot another cold look at Murtagh. "I only want to discuss this with _friends_."

Eragon and Helena shot a look at Murtagh that Nasuada noticed. "Don't worry, he won't be executed without warning. This is probably the safest place he could be right now."

"Just go," Murtagh said, waving them away with one hand resting his head against the other.

They didn't go anywhere specific, only moving a short distance through the tunnels under Tronjheim until they found a room that looked abandoned. With Eragon's anti-eavesdropping spell, even that wasn't really needed, but it just didn't feel right to hold a private discussion out in the open.

Helena told Nasuada everything, not holding anything back. It wasn't like she had been asked to keep quiet about it.

"So they would prevent me from implementing any ideas that they judge is too rash?" Nasuada summarized, before giving a sharp smile. "Do you think an all-out offensive against the empire is something they would object to?"

"I dare say they would," Helena said dryly.

"They are good men, but they are too careful. Ajihad was the one that came up with the bold ideas, then Jörmundur would take note of all the ways those ideas are too dangerous, and then together, they would come up with a workable compromise."

"Wait, you were serious about attacking the empire?" Eragon asked, disbelieving.

Nasuada gritted her teeth. "My father's work will not go unfinished, even if it takes me to my grave." A sigh escaped her. "As of now I only have rough ideas that will need further deliberations, but yes. The sad fact is that there are no safe paths to victory; we will be attacking the empire."

"What about Galbatorix?" Helena wondered, visibly worriedly. "We are not ready."

"If his past actions are anything to go by, he won't leave Urû'baen until the capital itself is threatened. That will give you some time to grow stronger."

Helena was still uneasy. She had expected to have years of experience with her new powers, but this plan would only give her one year at most.

Nasuada noticed her unease. "Like I said, I still need to think about this some more. The point is, I can't be in a position where anyone can tell me what to do. The Varden need a leader, not a figurehead."

"I don't think the council was that malicious," Eragon protested.

"Not malicious no, but controlling? Definitely. They bring up my youth as if it is proof that I will make mistakes. As if old men don't make mistakes," Nasuada snorted. "You are both young yourself; you cannot tell me that you aren't annoyed by it."

"A little," Eragon admitted. "But that doesn't make them wrong. I have made plenty of mistakes."

"As have I," Helena added.

Nasuada had a guarded expression on her face. "Does that mean you support this plot?"

"My gut says no," Helena said, making a wishy-washy hand gesture. "But I am not at all certain about it. I have only known you for a short time and this council for even less."

"Does it even matter?" Eragon asked. "They informed us of the plan, but it doesn't require our cooperation. They didn't even forbid us from sharing the plan, so they might think there is nothing we can do about it even if we wanted to."

"Then they are fools. If you wanted to stop it, you could," Nasuada said. "I will likely be summoned soon so I can accept the offer of 'leadership'." Helena could practically hear the air quotes around leadership. "After that, it won't be long before this becomes public. Think about what is best for the Varden's cause, and tell me when you have decided, but do not wait too long. No decision is also a decision."

"It isn't right to put all of this on you so soon after. . ." Eragon trailed of awkwardly.

Nasuada's expression was difficult to describe. Both her eyebrows rose and her mouth was slightly parted as if surprised. "I think it may be better this way."

 _For some, being busy is an effective way of grieving,_ Helena reflected.

"You will need to convince us that this attack on the empire isn't a bad idea," Helena said.

"I never thought I would need to convince you of this course, Helena. Isn't courage one of your virtues."

"It is," Helena admitted, "and I know its pitfalls better than most. I understand there is risk; I just want to make sure you thought this through."

"Then I better start thinking," Nasuada said, smirking. "If you would please excuse me."

Without waiting for a response, she walked off and disappeared behind the door, leaving both Riders alone.

"So. . ." Helena began to ask, "do you know where Angela is?"

"I know where her room is. Solembum showed it to me once."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Angela listened patiently to Eragon and Helena's request with a usually serious expression on her face.

"No."

"What do you mean, no!" Helena exclaimed. "You have always talked shit about the twins. Do you just not want to be in charge of Du Vranga Gata."

"That too, but that's not the main reason. If all it would take to get rid of the twins is for me to babysit the Varden's mages for a while, then I would."

"Then why?"

"Because if I were to fight one of the twins in a magician's duel, I would lose."

 _That,_ Helena hadn't expected. "You have always talked shit about the twins," she repeated. "I recall you saying something about. . ." she struggled to recall the exact words.

"I said that if the twins were the best the Varden had, then that should tell you everything about how singularly unimpressive everyone else is," Angela said helpfully, a spark of her usual energeticness returning. "I am fond of hyperbole sometimes. I am sorry if I gave you the wrong idea."

"Hyperbole?" Eragon asked.

"It means exaggeration," Angela explained. "I know more words of the Ancient Language, have more knowledge of how magic works than anyone in Du Vranga Gata, and my mental defenses are second to none, but that alone won't help me. As a magician, I am disadvantaged; it takes me a long time to reach this power behind my mind that is needed to cast magic. I am not sure how your magic works, Helena, but Eragon knows of what I speak. In a duel like the one you propose, that's a death sentence."

"Is that why you restrict yourself to potions?" Helena asked.

"Partly. I like to think that I would still be as dedicated to potions and herb lore if I didn't have this particular handicap, but I suppose we'll never know."

 _So much plan A._ "Do you know who is the strongest magician in Du Vranga Gata after the twins?"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Angela had offered to accompany them, but had also warned that this _'Trianna'_ would be less receptive to help them if the herbalist was with them. According to Angela, her freedom and independence from the twins had long since been a point of envy and jealousy among the magicians of Du Vranga Gata. Trianna would be unlikely to pass up the chance to throw veiled insults at Angela and Angela was even less likely to swallow the jibes without reciprocating in kind. It wouldn't be conductive to a productive discussion to say the least.

Trianna lived in one of the nicer parts of Tronjheim, close to the library. Since it was imperative that the twins didn't find out that they were being plotted against – though they might guess at it – Helena had wanted to go in disguise, but Angela had talked them out of it. _"Wearing something that covers your face would only make you look more suspicious. Night is already here and soon the hold will be asleep; let that be your protection._

Eragon and Helena counted the doors until they found the one where this Trianna was supposed to live.

Eragon knocked, but no footsteps could be heard as a response.

"Asleep?" Helena suggested in a whispered voice. She had her single hand outstretched with a pure red fire burning above her palm. She could have used a simple _lumos,_ but the fire also gave heat and it was cold in the halls.

"Likely. I suppose I could prod her awake with my mind but. . ."

"As a magician, she'd likely take offense to that," Helena finished for him. If she was asleep, Helena also wouldn't appreciate some stranger poking at her mind when she was at her most vulnerable.

Eragon knocked a few more times, as loud as he dared without waking up the rest of the hall.

After another two minutes of trying, they could finally hear someone moving behind the door.

The door opened inward to show an average length woman with black hair and bright blue eyes. She looked to be in her mid-twenties. Helena recognized the woman as the one who had been poking at her severed arm earlier this afternoon. She had obviously just gotten out of bed judging by the dark blue silk nightgown and how she was still blinking the sleep from her eyes.

The annoyed scowl on her face was immediately replaced by a too-bright-to-be-real smile when she noticed who had knocked on her door. "Riders, how can I be of service?"

Now, the smart thing to do would be to slowly ease Trianna into the conversation. Point out all the ways Helena and Eragon could help her improve her magic before telling her what they wanted her to do with this new power.

"We need you to kill one of the twins in a duel."

There was a good reason why Helena hadn't been sorted in Ravenclaw.

Only Eragon swiftly putting his foot in the door opening prevented Trianna from slamming the door in their faces. "Please, just listen to what we have to say before turning us down," Eragon pleaded.

Trianna whispered harshly through the crack in the door that was still being held open by Eragon's foot. "If anyone of us even had a chance when facing the twins in combat, don't you think we would have gotten rid of them a long time ago," Helena suspected that the _we_ referred to everyone in Du Vrangre Gata. "and they are too careful to ambush. If they so much as learn that I am having this conversation with you, I'm finished."

"What if we share our complete knowledge of the Ancient Language with you?" Helena suggested.

Eragon hadn't been happy with that part of the plan. He wanted to face the twins himself. Helena couldn't deny that the direct solution had its appeal, but this way she could do what she had wanted to do ever since she heard the Ancient Language was being kept secret. For Eragon, having to share the knowledge of the Riders was a price; for Helena, it was perk.

"What?" Trianna sounded as if a stranger had just walked up to her and asked to marry her.

"Can you defeat one of the twins in a duel if you had compete knowledge of the Ancient Language?" Helena repeated.

"Maybe– I– Come inside," she commanded after stumbling over a reply. The door went completely open again and Trianna led them towards what was obviously both her living and bedroom. It held a pleasant aroma of fresh flowers. "Forgive the shoddy accommodations. Tronjheim was never meant to hold this many people. Wait here while I find something more appropriate to wear."

Helena looked around and sat herself in a wooden chair with a back support that reached far above her head. She had to admit that it was a cool looking chair, almost like a throne. Eragon pulled a smaller chair out from under a desk and moved it next to his fellow Rider's, giving Helena a longsuffering look that she answered with a smile and a shrug with the palm of her hand raised upwards.

A few minutes later – long enough that it was clear Trianna had spent a consider amount of time picking an outfit – she returned wearing an elaborate violet hooded dress complete with golden colored laces weaving through her clothes in sharp angles like lightning. Tiny white Runes that Helena couldn't decipher and so suspected were entirely made up dotted her clothing like stars. The sleeves of her arms were so large that they hung loosely down her arms. Her neckline hung in a cowl and was was low enough to hint but not show her cleavage. Around her wrist was that same snake shaped armband that she wore earlier today. Helena silently admitted that if you wanted to announce that you were magic user, you couldn't be much more obvious than this, though Helena would have put on a pointy hat instead of a dark hood were she to try the same.

Trianna couldn't mask a small scowl when she noticed that Helena had seated herself in the largest seat in the room. Helena herself made no attempt to hide the smile from having taken the big chair that she suspected Trianna liked to use whenever she wanted to impress someone coming to ask something of her. It was incredibly petty, but most power displays were.

Trianna briefly looked towards the only remaining unoccupied chair in the room which was of the same size as Eragon's, but eventually decided to sit herself on the bed with her legs crossed over each other.

"I'm sure you realize that I have a lot of questions," Trianna began.

"I understand that it is a lot that we are asking," Eragon said in response, in a voice like he was trying not to scare her. "Know that you can safely refuse our request, and we swear not a word of this meeting will reach the twins."

"That is very kind of you," Trianna cooed sweetly at Eragon the Rider, leaning forward slightly to showcase her assets.

 _She isn't being very subtle about it,_ Helena thought. Before she had a chance to get annoyed, Eragon put his hand over hers, looked softly at her before giving Trianna an amused look.

Trianna merely shrugged unrepentantly. "I have only heard rumors of your relationship. Can't blame a girl for trying."

"I know many women would blame you for such a thing," Eragon said.

"Lucky for you, I'm not one of them," Helena used the opening presented by Eragon, though she wasn't sure if she was lying or not.

Trianna seemingly did think Helena was lying and bowed her head. "If I have offended you, I'm sorry. It is late and I am not myself. The latest tragedy has hit us all hard."

Helena failed to see how Ajihad's recent death could have anything to do with this tramp's failed attempt to seduce her boyfriend, but in the interest of getting the plan moving she let the apology slide. "You had questions?"

"Yes. Am I to understand that you want to get rid of the twins because you do not believe their accusation of treason against Murtagh Morzan's-son?"

"Yes," Helena answered.

"Is it the part about treason or the part of him being Morzan's son that you do not believe?"

"No, he is Morzan's son, but he isn't a traitor."

"Surprising," Trianna smiled wryly. "I take it you knew?"

"We guessed it, and he admitted it." That wasn't true, but it was close enough. Helena had guessed that Murtagh was Galbatorix's son and Murtagh then admitted to being Morzan's son because that was actually preferable.

"And you want me to challenge one of the twins for leadership? You do know that even if I win it would only deal with one of the twins, correct?"

"Would the other stay around after his brother's death?" Eragon asked doubtfully.

"Maybe not," Trianna admitted. "But if he does, do you want me to murder the remaining twin as well."

Helena didn't like the word 'murder', but it wasn't like she could complain about Trianna calling it what it was. "That would be helpful," Helena said, trying not to let her distaste show.

"And how much would me being helpful, be _worth_ to you?"

"I am already offering knowledge of the Ancient Language," Helena answered hesitantly. _Isn't that enough? I expected it would be._

"Tools that I need to compete the favor you ask me," Trianna shrugged.

 _'The woman is testing you,'_ Godric, who had been following the events, spoke up in her mind. _'I suspect that the knowledge you offer would indeed be enough, but if she can squeeze more out of you, she will.'_

Helena clicked her tongue in annoyance. "Look, I don't do. . ." she made a vague all-encompassing motion with her hand. "This. This favor for a favor, debts and bargaining stuff. I'm asking you to help, not only because you benefit, but because it is the right thing to do. Doesn't that count for anything?"

Trianna blinked and looked a little taken aback.

"We will remember that you helped us," Eragon said. "But we can't afford to owe you a favor for fear that it will run against our morals."

 _Which is almost what is now happening with Murtagh, though that was a promise and not a favor._

Eragon continued speaking. "You will be the leader of Du Vrangr Gata and we, as well as Nasuada who will be the next leader of the Varden, will know that you helped deal with a dangerous enemy."

"Nasuada, uh?" Trianna stared at nothing for a few seconds, ticking the arms of her chair with her the fingers of her right hand. "And she will know of my part in this, you say?" She sighed as if giving up on something. "Just this once, I suppose I can ignore the usual proceedings and show my good will."

"So you'll face one of the twins in a duel?" Helena pressed.

"Yes," Trianna answered. "I think that given a few months to learn I will be able to device a spell that the twins will never be able to block."

Helena smiled nervously. "Arya will likely spirit us away to Ellesméra." _And that is not even mentioning how Nasuada's moving of the Varden could mess things up._ "We don't have months."

" _I_ don't have months you mean," Trianna said coldly. "Should I risk my life because you are in a hurry? Why don't you do it yourself? Surely the twins are no match for you."

"I'll gladly do it if you won't," Eragon smiled. "Perhaps that would be better. It is unfair of us to expect you to–"

"No!" Trianna exclaimed, wide eyed and one hand reaching forward as if to grab something.

Helena could hear Godric laughing in her head. _'I knew that she couldn't resist the power you are offering.'_

Trianna chuckled suddenly. "It's funny. We of Du Vrangr Gata often say that if we could just learn all there is to know about the Ancient Language we could die happy. I never expected Lorga to answer my wishes in such an ironic way. Give me a week, at least, and I will duel one of the twins."

"Eragon only had a little over a month of instructions on magic; I even less," Helena pointed out, obviously not counting Hogwarts. "We can probably share all that we know in a week with time to spare."

"That does not fill me with confidence," Trianna grimaced.

"I admit that we still have much to learn," Eragon said defensively, "hence our going to the elves, but it is still much more than the twins know."

"I can use the excuse of fixing my left arm to stay out of the public eye to teach you," Helena suggested. It would leave Eragon to deal with the Council of Elders situation and any other problems that might turn up. He wasn't happy with that, but so long as he listened to Saphira's advice, he would be fine. Helena suspected that between herself, Eragon, Godric, and Saphira, the blue dragon was the most sensible of the quartet. Helena had already assured Eragon that she would support whatever decision he made.

Trianna hummed thoughtfully. "I can _probably_ get away with skirting my regular duties. Especially if you can convince the council and Nasuada to officially declare a few days of mourning to give me an excuse."

"I'll talk to them," Eragon offered.

Trianna nodded. "It's essential that the twins don't find out about this plot until the day before the duel when I will issue the challenge. They would keep me busy with all sorts of tasks and make sure that we will have no chance to interact after that, if they don't find some way to kill me immediately."

"I can move into your room unseen," Helena promised. "Nobody will suspect that I am not in the Dragonhold and Godric can warn me if somebody comes to see me." This would also give her enough time to fix her arm in between giving instructions, Helena guessed. "Just make sure that you don't have any visitors, when I arrive."

"You can contact my mind directly to ask to check whether it is safe," Trianna reminded her.

Helena hadn't actually forgotten that, but contacting a stranger – which Trianna still was – especially a magician with one's mind without permission was bad form.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

The next morning when a messenger boy woke them up to continue the discussion with the council, Helena made her excuse of needing to fix her arm – something that she actually _did_ need to do – and then lied about spending the day in her cave.

She wished Eragon well, and then when she made sure the coast was clear, apparated directly into Trianna's room. She took her severed left arm and any books that might help her restore it with her.

As was common with those first exposed to apparition, Trianna nearly jumped out of her skin in surprise. "I thought you would make yourself invisible and fly through the halls, not teleport." An eager glint appeared in her eye. "Can you teach me that?"

"No," After laying her splinched arm down on a nightstand, Helena did her best to explain her own unique circumstances. It took her a while to convince Trianna that she wasn't just blowing smoke up her arse, and that only after Helena demonstrated several abilities that shouldn't be possible with the Ancient Language. Even that didn't entirely convince Trianna since she didn't actually know for certain what was and wasn't possible with her own powers, but eventually she had to accept it.

"So you can't use the Ancient Language yourself, yet you think yourself fit to teach it to another?" Trianna asked skeptically.

"I can always contact Eragon." Helean shrugged. It wasn't easy to contact someone without knowing exactly where he was, but with Saphira's help as a go-between, it was no problem. "And I am the one who wanted to share our knowledge in the first place." And with her arm she had an excuse to not be seen for a while.

Trianna gaped at her like a fish. "Wait, you _wanted_ to share it?"

"Where I come from, knowledge isn't horded but taught in a school. Every child with magic has the same opportunity to learn. Before that time, children were limited to what their family knew, what they could discover on their own, or, if they were lucky, what their master was willing to teach her. I think things are better now."

"I learned all I know from my mother, a healer in Surda," Trianna confessed. "We joined Du Vranga Gata together, but she died soon after."

"I'm sorry," Helena said automatically.

"Thank you." Trianna said just as reflexively, before staring softly at her snake bracelet. "She taught me all she knew, so her legacy lives on." She looked up and stared intently into Helena's eyes. "Are you expecting me to share what you teach me with others, even though I am the one who is taking the risk."

"It's the right thing to do."

"I'm not so sure about that," Trianna frowned. "You must have some idea about the power you are talking about. Not all will use it responsibly."

"I have no guarantee that _you_ will use it responsibly, yet I am showing faith in you. Can't you do the same for others?"

"Perhaps," Trianna pursed her lips. "I shall think about it. That is all I can promise."

From there they retreated to the only other room in Trianna's residence, which more of a large cupboard, so that nobody entering unexpectedly would discover them.

Trianna had scattered a few cushions on the floor for comfort. She had also pushed her personal nightstand into the room to serve as a makeshift table complete with several notebooks and writing utensils.

The blue-eyed woman sat herself on a cushion on one end of the _'table'_. "This is not the place where I usually practice my arts, as I am sure you can imagine, but that is the idea."

As much as Trianna disparaged her new study room, Helena thought the room quite cozy. The lack of proper ventilation would make an extended stay uncomfortable, but she could magic that problem away.

"Alright, I guess we better get started," Helena said. The look Trianna gave her was so intense, so _hungry_ , that Helena had to resist the urge to fidget. "The word for air is vindr. It can also be used to describe wind. In fact, so long as the association with wind makes sense to you, you can also use it describe movement or speed. Our teacher, Brom, told us that a creative and disciplined magician can accomplish much with few words so long he or she can interpret the words correctly."

Trianna paused in her note taking. "If it is just our own interpretation that counts, does it even matter if the words are correct?"

"No. Vindr, does mean wind. You can't decide that it means something else like cold for example. What you _can_ do is have wind be associated with something else, like the weather for example, but only if you can use the concept of wind to do so… am I making sense?"

"Ones knowledge must be correct before one can interpret it," Trianna tried to summarize, before smiling wryly. "One must know the rules before bending them."

"These _are_ the rules, there is no bending them," Helena lectured, surprising herself in how much that sounded like Brom's snappish way of instructing.

The reminder of Brom prompted Helena to go over all the basics before sharing any more words of power. How distance effected how much a spell costs, with scrying being one of the only exceptions. She shared how teleportation was also an exception, but warned that it was one of the most costly form of magic available, and neither she nor Eragon knew the words of power needed for it in any case. Trianna confessed that, while she didn't yet know the words of power for scrying – the pointed look Helena received made it clear Trianna expected to receive them from her – she did know how distance effected magic, and how, if you used magic beyond your abilities, you died.

That neatly allowed Helena to transition towards explaining how one could word a spell in such a way that the effect was gradual. Like saying, slow or weaken instead stop. Trianna surprised Helena when she said she already knew that trick. Though she didn't complain, it was obvious Trianna wanted to get back to learning more words of power, so Helena obliged.

Meanwhile, Eragon informed Saphira, who informed Godric, who then told Helena how the succession of leadership of the Varden was going.

Eragon had apparently decided to support Nasuada over the council by swearing fealty directly to her. _Nasuada must have convinced him that attacking the empire wasn't stupid,_ Helena reasoned. The witch responded by telling Eragon via the dragon relay that she would do the same so long as it was clear that she would be free to go once Galbatorix was dead. _If the Varden are a cause, then once that cause if fulfilled, so is my promise to Ajihad._ Helena wasn't sure whether her reasoning was sound, but she didn't want to spend her life subservient to another, nor even stay in Alagasia forever, though Helena doubted Nasuada would abuse her power by forcing her to do something she didn't want.

 _'Nasuada accepts your compromise,'_ Godric relayed. _'and may I just say that Saphira and I don't appreciate having to play messenger between you? I know it isn't easy, but try to talk to Eragon directly. It will go smoother and will be good training for you.'_

No harm in trying.

"I am going to try to communicate with Eragon directly," Helena warned Trianna, "I might not respond for a while."

Trianna didn't look up from her notebook that currently had over thirty words of power written down on it. "Make sure that you don't try to get into my head by accident," was all she said.

Helena closed her eyes, opened her mind, and send her consciousness searching for Eragon. Trianna had been right to warn her, as the only other light of awareness so close to her, it was difficult to ignore the other magic user and send her mind searching wider. Not for the first time, the sense of openness that she experienced threatened to overwhelm her, like her mind could simply float away never to return. It was an irrational fear, she knew, since her connection to Godric reassured her that she would always be able to return by following that bond.

Within less than a minute it was clear she wasn't going to be able to find Eragon alone.

Beyond the confines of the small cupboard, she only had her mental senses to rely on. The only way to get a visual would require her to semi-possess someone and look through their eyes; something she obviously wasn't willing to do. Helena knew Eragon's mind enough to recognize it if she found it, but she would still need to _find_ it first amidst all of the different minds that inhabited Tronjheim. Because of the day of mourning that the council had declared at Nasuada's urging, the dwarven stronghold was even more full of minds than usual. It was like trying to find a friend blindfolded, relying only on sound, amidst a huge party with thousands of people talking over each other.

Helena suspected she could find Eragon easily or vice versa by broadcasting her location and projecting her thoughts far and wide, but that would alert any person even vaguely familiar with mental communication what they were doing. The twins would most certainly be one of them.

 _'Come to me, Saphira will call Eragon's mind to the Dragonhold,'_ Godric told her.

And so she did, and there he was. Eragon's presence was a soft blue light in a world of blackness. Both the wilder souls of Godric and Saphira had retreated to give them privacy.

 _'What is wrong?'_ she asked, and she knew something was wrong. Even from this, for lack of a better term, distance, Helena could sense his agitation.

His mind moved closer, touching her essence with his own to make the communication easier. _'Shadeslayer isn't happy with our choices.'_

 _'What is Arya's problem?' Helena_ deliberately used the elf's name instead of her new title. She thought the whole addressing people by their honor names was silly. If people were going to be calling her _Lifebringer,_ she was going be doing a lot of 'Just Helena is fine's in the future.

 _'She disapproves of us swearing fealty, even, or maybe because it is needed to make Nasuada a true leader.'_

 _'Any idea as to why?_ "

 _"It is difficult to tell with her, but I think it is because Nasuada intends to attack the empire directly. I think Arya would agree with the council that waiting is the better plan. I think it may have something to do with how much older she is. Did you know she is over ninety years old?'_

 _'No, but it doesn't surprise me.'_

A flicker of irritation. _'Well it surprised me, and I think it is why she would prefer a more patient approach. To her, waiting and preparing another few decades is nothing. What is a decade to those who live for centuries? But for us, waiting another few decades are a generation worth of people who have to grow up in the empire or live to fight against it.'_ A mental shrug. _'I could be wrong though, Arya's emotions are hard to read most of the time.'_

 _'So what did Nasuada say that convinced you her plan was good?'_

 _'Well, for one thing, we may not have a choice. By attacking Tronjheim, Galbatorix has shown that he is ready to expand his influence once again, if not take the field himself. If he attacks Surda, and we are not there to meet his army. . . well I am sure you can imagine. The Varden's stay in Tronjheim was never meant to be permanent. The generosity of the dwarves will eventually run out, even with Hrothgar's support. This is made worse by the believe that Gablatorix attacked Tronjheim because we and the Varden were here, which is probably true.'_

 _'Those are all arguments to move the Varden to Surda, not to attack the empire.'_

 _'Galbatorix has been trying to get rid of the Varden for some time, if he learns that they are in Surda, he will act. If war is inevitable, it would be better that it happens in Galbatorix's territory.'_

 _'So it's inevitable?'_

 _'Yes, but Nasuada also wants this, I can tell. As do I to be honest; as does Saphira. If Galbatorix wants to fight us than we will not cower.'_

Helena knew that Godric would agree with that sentiment and she couldn't say that she had any great patience for a lifelong struggle either. Besides, she felt more comfortable with Nasuada than with any of the council, even Jörmundur.

 _'Have the twins made any trouble?'_

 _'They offered me their condolences for being tricked so easily and assured me that they didn't hold it against me. I didn't punch them, but it was a near thing. I suspect they know we think them liars, but I don't think they know of our exact plan. Murtagh's trial was to be held in eight days, after we are on the road to Du Weldenvarden so we can't interfere. Arya isn't helping by pushing for us to leave as soon as possible, she has even offered to help us free Murtagh if it would get us moving faster.'_

 _'Have you told her about our plan involving Trianna?'_

 _'I've thought about it, and I will tell her if she starts pushing harder for a reason not to leave immediately after Nasuada's appointment, but until then, no. I am a little afraid she will disapprove, to be honest. Like many, she holds the Riders of old in high regard and we are spitting on one their customs, right?'_

 _'I am spitting on one of their customs; this is my idea. You wanted to do the deed yourself.'_

 _'Yet, I allow it. I could have fought you on this, but I didn't. You feel more strongly about this than I do.'_

The reminder that Eragon didn't agree with her but was merely going along with her plan made Helena want to justify herself. _'We can't keep it all to ourselves. It's arrogant to decide what people are and aren't ready for.'_

Eragon took a few seconds to formulate a response. _'If this Trianna misuses this power, do you consider yourself partly responsible for that?'_

Helena tried to imagine it. _'I suppose I would feel guilty.'_

 _'As will I.'_ A bit of tension disappeared from Eragon's mind. _'I will go to the Dragonhold to meet you. We should still be seen together to take our meals. It will seem strange if we don't.'_

When Helena returned to her body, and after she explained to Trianna of the necessity of being seen together with Eragon, she decided to address Eragon's concern. It wasn't like she didn't share them.

 _"Trianna,_ " Helena began hesitantly. _"This power we entrust you with. I don't –I – what I mean is, all that you do with it. . ."_

"Will reflect on you, I know," Trianna finished for her, and moved closer to the slightly younger woman and made sure to look her in the eye. "I realize the risk you take and the trust you show. As your apprentice – even if only for a few days – my glory is your glory and my shame will be your shame. I swear, I will not dishonor you by abusing this gift."

The respect Trianna earned from Helena with those words would only increase over the coming days.

Hogwarts, while a magical school, was still a school, and Helena had always seen it as such. Magic was more fun to learn than classes for mathematics, history, language, or even arts and physical education like she remembered attending in the time before her eleventh birthday, to be sure. Yet she still saw magic as something she _had_ to learn because the teachers told her to, not because it was something she wanted to do. Now, as she watched Trianna cherish each new word of the Ancient Language as if it was the name of one her own children, Helena realized how much she had taken for granted. How much, in the time before Hogwarts, young witches and wizards who weren't lucky enough to be born into a magical family would have killed to be in her shoes. It made her feel absurdly guilty.

To Trianna magic wasn't her work, a skill she possessed or even a profession; it was who she was. And Helena, by offering the other woman the knowledge she did, would make her _more_ than she was before. Such a passion for anything was something Helena had rarely seen; it was humbling and inspiring. A part of her wondered that if Galbatorix had offered this Trianna more knowledge of magic as Helena suspected he had done to the twins – " _Then we will continue to look elsewhere to improve our craft."_ – would her new pupil have accepted such an offer? Trianna wasn't evil or untrustworthy, but it was clear that _this_ was what she valued most in life.

Often, Helena had to contact Eragon to remind herself, or even learn for the first time, what a word in the Ancient Language meant. And even with that, all either Helena or Eragon knew were the words, not the rules of grammar or other pitfalls. Helena tried to make the limitations of her teachings clear.

"But will I learn more when you know more?" Trianna had asked her.

"Yes." _If the elves are even willing to teach me more now that it is clear I won't keep it to myself,_ Helena thought.

Only a few things interrupted the study sessions with Trianna.

The first was Orik coming to the Dragonhold on the morning of the second day after the death of Ajihad, saying that Hrothgar requested an audience.

Helena had actually first gone to ask permission from Trianna. The female rider was painfully aware that Trianna's life rested on the success of her tutoring, so she was wary of anything that might upset that.

Trianna had blinked in surprise and watched her incredulously for a while before waving her away. "A king demands your presence; one does not simply snub a king without consequence. Go! I can go over, think, and memorize what I already have."

And so it was that Eragon, Saphira, Helena, and Godric came to stand in front of Hrothgar's throne in the very chamber where they had fought the Shades. None of the statues of kings were present, having simply frozen back into immobility on the battlefield when their grizzly work was finished.

Having learnt from last time, Helena and Eragon both knelt in unison this time.

"Riders Eragon and Helena, welcome back to my hall," Hrothgar spoke and the king nodded upward in Helena's direction. "Will your arm be alright?"

"Yes, I think so," she answered. According to her book reattaching the limb would require human transfiguration. A difficult skill, despite her own familiarity with it, but since the arm would want to return to its original position, it would be easier than most human transformations.

"That is good to hear," he said and he sounded sincere. "Both your powers have grown since the last time I called you here, and some of my reasons for distrusting you have disappeared. You are heroes now, to my people as well as your own. Well done."

Helena suspected that was a close to an apology as she was ever going to get from this proud man. She rose along with Eragon when Hrothgar made an upwards gesture towards them.

"Thank you," Eragon said. They had agreed beforehand that he would speak for the both of them in the coming days whenever possible, since Helena's attention needed to be elsewhere. That agreement hadn't been made with this specific meeting in mind, but Helena had stayed a feet behind Eragon to indicate his taking the lead. It was something Helena hoped to encourage even more in the future. While she wasn't sure she wanted stick around in Alagaësia forever, Eragon probably would; best he learned to lead.

"Also, out of gratitude for your services, we wish you to keep the dragon armor worn in the battle of Farthen Dür. Saphira or Godric may use it until they outgrow it and it is yours to pass on to your successors if you wish. Even now our most skilled smiths are repairing any damage it sustained during the fighting. I realize that Helena could have repaired it with a single spell, but some things are worth more if done properly."

"Thank you," Eragon repeated. "We will cherished these gifts."

"Speaking of repairing things properly," Hrothgar said gravely, leaning forward and meeting Helena's eyes. "I take it you tried to repair the Isidar Mithrim in the same way you repaired any other peace of broken furniture in Tronjheim?"

"Yes," Helena said, having the force the word past her lips. It was clear she was in for another lecture.

"I may not know magic like you do, but when you treat an object or a task like any other task, that is what it becomes. Nothing out of the ordinary, while Isidar Mithrim is anything but ordinary. That is where I suspect you went wrong."

Hrothgar looked at her as if expecting her to say something. "I am sorry?" The uncertainty in her apology made it a question.

"It remains to be seen if we can restore the Star Sapphire properly, but I cannot deny that it is better than having the heart of our city in pieces. So thank you. The next issue we need to discuss is your new title, Lifebringer." Hrothgar frowned at her. "Arrogance is what I call it and many dwarves consider it a slight. Stone _is_ alive. You cannot bring to life what is already alive. The title demonstrates a lack of understanding of our beliefs. Which, to be fair, I cannot blame you for since I doubt the title was one of your own choosing."

Hrothgar again looked at her for an answer, but she remained silent. No sense in speaking ill of the dead.

"In order to minimize the damage to your reputation, I have tried to give you a new name among my people. Spell-master we shall call you, in reference to your magical talents. Not as impressive as Lifebringer, true, but it will go over better with the Knurla."

"I am begging to think these names are more trouble than they are worth," Helena grumbled, allowing her annoyance to show. Perhaps if she received enough titles, nobody would know what to call her and stick to 'lady'.

Hrothgar snorted with a something that might be a smile; it was hard to tell under that beard. "As do I, but the choice is not whether to receive them, but whether or not to control what they are."

From then on, the king interrogated them about whether Nasuada would be a good choice as leader for the Varden. Helena allowed Eragon to answer all the questions. Helena could tell, from the way the king's eyes flicked towards her, that he found it odd that she remained silent.

"Then our business is concluded," Hrothgar said after Eragon convinced him to accept Nasuada's appointment. "The feast that was planned for our victory will have to be delayed until after Ajihad's funeral. It would be in poor taste. I look forward to seeing you there. You may go."

"Actually, your majesty," Helena said hurriedly, "I was hoping I could be excused for that party. I have other commitments."

"I hope you were not planning to use the distraction to break your friend Murtagh out of prison," Hrothgar warned. "Such a thing would not be justice. There will be a fair trial, I assure you. Neither I, nor this Nasuada from what I heard today, will allow the truth to elude us."

"It's not that," Helena said truthfully, though they would free Murtagh eventually. Now that Hrothgar had explicitly told them not to, she feared that would instantly destroy any good will they had built up with Hrothgar. "But there is something I have to do. A life is at stake; not Murtagh's." Trianna's.

Hrothgar frowned. "I take it you will not tell me what this _something_ is."

"I am asking you not to press me on this," Helena pleaded.

The king sighed. "Very well, you have earned that much. Eragon, Will _you_ at least be there?"

"Yes, and I assure you your majesty, nobody will lament Helena's absence as much as me."

Hrothgar laughed. "That I can believe. Go now."

Once the audience was over, and she said goodbye to Eragon, Helena made a beeline back towards the Dragonhold to apparate back Trianna's room to resume the lessons.

Near the end of that second day, Trianna made a suggestion that Helena had thought to propose herself, but figured it was better for Trianna to ask for instead.

"I want to practice defending my mind with you," Trianna said.

"I will see some personal memories," Helena warned. If Trianna could keep Helena out of her mind without showing any secrets. . . well that would be very good, but she also wouldn't have learned anything. One doesn't learn by only succeeding. Helena would needs to scheme, wiggle, and worm her way past Trianna's defenses, so as to find and expose any of her weaknesses in a safe environment; that was how one improved. Brom had done the same with her.

"I know," Trianna said. And that was that.

Trianna used the more common way of defending one's mind by focusing solely on one thing to the exclusion of everything else. In this case it was the memory of a song, a lullaby, sung by her mother when she was very young. Like many of the songs in Alagaesia, and unlike many of the songs in her old world, this song had a story attached to it.

It was the story of a man named Finian, who met a golden adder on the road who convinced him to go on a quest to kill a monster named The Scaled Man – later revealed to be a shade who grew scales in imitation of the dragons. With the golden snake named Lorga at his side he was able to slay the Shade, but sadly died in the attempt. In repayment for Finian's sacrifice, Lorga became the guardian spirit of Finian's descendants, so long as they worshipped him as if he were a god.

It was immediately apparent to Helena that Trianna was one of those decedents, or at least believed she was. As such, the story held great personal significance to the sorceress, which Helena now suspected she was due to Lorga's nature. The fantasy of Finian's journey that Trianna had made in her mind was more vivid than the sorceresses own real memories, making it an excellent shield.

Helena tried some of Brom's taunts and insults to break Trianna's concentration, to no effect. She got the sense that Trianna was used to ignoring insults. Or it could be that Helena didn't really mean the insults so they were just easy to ignore.

Helena paused in her assault, ignoring Trianna's smug look. She had to get the other women emotional somehow. Make her angry.

The witch thought of the last person she had managed to inadvertently infuriate, Murtagh. Murtagh had said it was her disappointment, her judgment, that he couldn't stand. He believed she had no right to judge and thus his outburst.

Helena smiled. "All right, let's try this again." Trianna schooled her features back into focus.

This time, instead of insults, Helena assaulted the women with feelings of disapproval. Focusing on Helena's suspicions about Trianna caring more about magic than she cared about people. How Helena doubted that Trianna would refuse an offer for more power in exchange for betraying her allies. How Trianna should be ashamed for not sharing all the knowledge she had been given with her fellow magic users. None of this manifested in words, just in feelings.

This finally broke through Trianna's concentration as the sorcerer felt compelled to answer the wordless charges, which was all the opening that Helena needed. She was _'rewarded'_ with a memory of Trianna learning at her mother's knee, being thought to always guard her secrets carefully unless she trusted them as much as she trusted her mother. From there, Helena could have followed the memory to related knowledge about what those secrets were, but she withdrew from Trianna's mind instead.

Trianna scowled at her. "The twins would never – _could_ never – use such a trick. Little miss perfect."

The smile Helena wore from her recent success dimmed. "Little miss perfect, huh?"

"Miss judgmental," Trianna corrected herself, looking away. "I can't complain. It was an effective way to get under my skin, which is what you were supposed to do." Trianna looked back at her with narrowed eyes. "But just so you know, I am not that kind of woman."

Helena was reminded of one of the insults that Droco Malfoy had for her, _Saint Potter_ , now seeing it in a new light.

Despite her success, Helena didn't use that same trick again, relying more on conventional tricks and her own greater power when it came to mental wrestling matches like this.

She also managed to reattach her left arm back to her shoulder. As the book said, the arm wanted to return to its original place, so that made the humans transfiguration easier than it would otherwise be. The book hinted that certain applications of healing spells rely on this same principle; the body wanting to return to its original unblemished state.

The second interruption of the study sessions was on the morning of the third day. Despite Helena's belief that Ajihad would be prefer she continue working on the twin's downfall, the funeral of the Varden's late leader wasn't something she could skip out on.

It was a beautiful ceremony, Helena had to admit. A long procession through the main hallway of Tronjheim accompanied by deep drumming. The lights of the lanterns had been dimmed just enough to give the illusion of twilight, giving the hall an ethereal feel. The stone archways that crossed the walls were just as full with onlookers as when Helena had first rode through here. The procession then went through several underground tunnels, going deeper underground than Helena had ever been. She was relieved when they finally reached their destination – a great catacomb lined with alcoves – both because she wanted to get back to work and because the air had been growing uncomfortably warm as they descended.

Helena was given the opportunity to say some words over the body, but she couldn't think of anything. Instead, she silently promised herself that she wouldn't betray the trust he had shown her.

Nasuada's coronation was scheduled only a short time later, held in a great underground amphitheater. It wasn't large enough to house everyone that wanted to attend, but judging by the way people were packed together like sardines, that didn't stop them from trying.

Helena felt uneasy by the whole affair, partly because they were essentially stabbing the council in the back after being trusted with their plans, partly because the twins were there. She had managed to say a civil greeting to the bald duo, but she had no doubt that they could see the venom in her eyes. Fortunately, they didn't try to talk to her after that. She caught a brief glance of Trianna in the crowd, but didn't acknowledge her presence, as they had previously discussed.

When the time came when Jörmundur announced Nasuada's appointment, Arya on behalf of the elves, Hrothgar on behalf of the dwarves, Eragon and Helena on behalf of. . . themselves, publicly gave their blessing to the choice. The twins, despite their influence and due to their unpopularity, weren't given the opportunity to speak.

Interestingly enough, it was the council of elders that would crown Nasuada – despite not actually being a queen, this whole ceremony felt like that was what was happening. Helena had thought that perhaps she or Eragon would crown Nasuada, considering the acclaim both Riders held. She was glad it wasn't so, however; the Varden should choose their own. A Rider bestowing the position would give the wrong message.

Nasuada was kneeling in front of _Jörmundur_ who was speaking to the crowd. "By the right of inheritance and succession, we have chosen Nasuada. By merit of her father's achievements and the blessings of her peers, we have chosen Nasuada. I now ask you: Have we chosen well?"

Obligingly, the crowd cheered. Helena, meanwhile, didn't like how much emphasis was being put on the inheritance aspect of the choice. A position as leader shouldn't be hereditary; it came too close to blood determining a person's worth.

Jörmundur nodded. "Then by the power granted to this council, we pass the privileges and responsibilities accorded to Ajihad to his only descendant, Nasuada." He gently placed a circlet of silver on Nasuada's brow. Taking her hand, he guided her upright and pronounced, "I give you, our new leader!"

It took an inordinately long time for the crowd to finish cheering. Helena hoped that nobody could read her impatience from her body language. The witch didn't feel any of the jubilation that the mass was feeling, only trepidation and a sense of _'Am I doing the right thing?'._ Despite her attempts not to, and knowing it was unfair of her, she couldn't help but think of the audience as sheep. Did they have any reasons to believe Nasuada would do a good job? Helena herself wasn't sure, and she actually knew their new leader.

 _What's wrong me?_ She thought. _Their faith and happiness shouldn't annoy me so._ Perhaps she was simply feeling resentful about them not having to feel responsible if all of this ends poorly? Helena shot a look towards the others who stood on the podium with her – Arya, Hrothgar, Eragon, the council, and – ignoring the twins – found that they too had somber looks on their faces. That reassured her a little.

Sabrea make a small jerking motion with her head from Helena and Eragon to the center stage to indicate that they were up now.

And so they walked, together, towards Nasuada and Jörmundur. Helena could feel the eyes of thousands staring at her and was sure that they could see how nervous she was, though Godric's continuous present in her mind was mitigating that. Both Ajihad's daughter and his second in command turned towards them so that they stood parallel with the edge of the podium and none needed to turn their backs towards the audience.

"Eragon speaks for both us," was all Helena said. Originally, she wanted to say 'all four of us', but both Godric and Saphira balked at the thought of swearing fealty to anyone, though both dragons acknowledged they would now be partly bound by association.

"Nasuada," Eragon knelt and presented Zar'roc on the palm of his hands, Helena following suit a moment later though she had no sword to offer. "Out of respect for your position and the difficulties that lie ahead of you. I dedicate the Order of Riders, such as it is, to you and your cause until your task is done. Will you accept my blade and my fealty, Nasuada?"

Nasuada smiled, grabbed the offered blade by the hilt, and placed the flat of the blade on Eragon's shoulder first and then on Helena's. The witch was hit with a sudden sense of vertigo as if she suddenly stepped out of reality in and into one of the fairy tales of her childhood.

"I am honored that The Order has chosen to serve me, until our task is done. Rise now as my vessels and take back your sword."

Eragon did so and the Riders again took their place next to the other VIPs. If any of the council were surprised by this deviation from scrip it didn't show on their faces.

"Neither of you warned us of this," Sabrea talked out of the corner of her mouth to Helena without facing her, barely audible over the cheering of the crowd that had started again. "You definitely restored the people's hopes, I grant you, but Nasuada will be even more bold now."

"I know," Helena said, also without turning and staring resolutely ahead.

Nasuada raised a hand to silence her people, her face was exuberant with joy, and if she didn't have black skin her cheeks would likely be red from blushing.

"People of the Varden!" she yelled and the crowd went silent to hear her speak. "Just like my father before me I shall give my life to you and our cause. I will not cease fighting until the Urgals are vanquished–" Helena sighed. "– Galbatorix is dead and Alagaësia is free once more."

 _How free was Alagaësia under the influence of the Riders?_ Helena couldn't help but wonder. _Bah! Curse you Hrothgar; you've made me into a cynic._

"Therefore, I say to you, now is the time to strike back. For decades we have skirmished endlessly with the empire, but no longer. We have just won a great victory and Galbatorix has lost a great army, we _must_ exploit this and prepare to attack the empire directly so we may once again stand victorious!

Of the council, only Umérth lacked the restraint not to face palm.

"If this ends up destroying us all, it will be on both your heads," Sabrea hissed, still without turning.

"I know that too," Helena said softly.

Alarm filled her when the twins, in perfect unison as always, strode forward towards Nasuada. "My lady!" they exclaimed to draw attention to themselves. It felt like the temperature in the room dropped suddenly.

To her side, she could sense everyone tensing; Eragon already had his hands on Zar'roc's hilt. Helena was feeling just as agitated, but not because of what the twins would do – they weren't dumb enough to attack Nasuada in the open like this – but from what they might say.

"You have nobly stated that you would avenge your father's dead on the Urgals," one twin began.

"Shit," Falbert cursed softly under his breath two places to Helena's right, likely having guessed were the twins were going.

"But what of the one who betrayed them, hmm?" the other one continued. "Murtagh Morzan's-son."

Nasuada's smile could put out a forest fire with how frosty it was. "By law, death has always been the punishment for treason and I will do my best to uphold that tradition, especially in this case; have no fear of that."

"Be that as it may," one of the twins continued smoothly. "You may have doubts about Murtagh's guilt, but we do not. If he goes free due to some doubting our word and loyalty, we will have no choice but to leave." _And take all of Du Vrangr Gata with us,_ went unsaid. "I believe getting justice for your father should come before any other concerns, wouldn't you agree?"

A murmur of whispered conversation went through the amphitheater. It was hard to say where popular opinion stood.

"This is no place for your scheming, be gone," Nasuada hissed, and tried to chase them way with the coldness of her glare alone.

The twins looked like they had more to say, but Umérth saved them by running up to the center of the stage and started giving his own speech with grand theatrical gestures, though much of it had already been said by others. Helena was grateful for him taking all the attention on himself and away from the twins.

Falbert took Eragon and Helena aside behind a curtain. "I don't know what you have planned, or even if you believe Murtagh is guilty. I just want to make sure that we will still have the mages of Du Vrangr Gata to rely on when this is over." He obviously suspected that they were plotting against the twins.

"We have a plan," Helena assured the man.

"And if that one fails we have another," Eragon said grimly, giving his partner a stern look.

 _'If Trianna fails, you'll get your turn,'_ she thought at him. From this distance, it wasn't hard to communicate their thoughts.

Falbert took a step closer so he stood in both Rider's personal spaces, his face only a few inches from Eragon. "If you were any other Varden, I would work to get you exiled at minimum for what you did today. As it is, we have no choice but to rely on you, but you're a fool if you think we will trust you again."

"Or perhaps you are the fool for thinking Galbatorix will just allow you to grow stronger if we don't fight back with all we have," Eragon retorted hotly.

"Maybe, maybe not," Falbert allowed. "But instead of confronting us about your stance on the matter, you went behind our back, even after Jörmundur included you within our discussions. No true ally does that."

"Would you have listened?" Eragon asked, stone faced.

"Listened? Always. Agreed? I don't know, but we will never know now." And with that Falbert went back to his colleagues.

The third and last interruption to the study sessions with Trianna was when Nasuada asked to speak to both Riders in her office the next day. Nasuada's office which previously belonged to Ajihad was large enough to house two dragons, so both Godric and Saphira joined them, though it was cramped.

"First of all, Helena, allow me to thank you for concurring with Eragon's decision to support me and offer fealty. Considering your earlier disposition, I wasn't sure what you would do."

"I trust Eragon and Saphira," Helena said.

"That is good; having our riders at odds with each other would be disastrous."

"Oh, I don't think you need to worry about that," Helena assured, giving Eragon a coy look that he returned.

Nasuada blew air out of her nose in that way that was almost a laugh. "Considering the amount of young loves I have seen quarreling in my life, I would have to disagree with you." The mirth in Nasuada's eyes dimmed as she continued speaking. "I wanted to talk about that actually. As you might know, a lot of our recruits come from the empire – those who flee. In order to attract more to our side, I want to spread the word about you two."

"You want to announce to the world to the world that we joined you?" Helena wondered. "I see no problem with that." She knew Godric wouldn't have a problem with it either. According to her draconic partner, the more people who knew about him, the better. With the speed of a thought, she was able to confirm her assumption with him.

"Me neither," Eragon affirmed. "We have made up our minds, and if this helps the Varden, then that is enough of a reason."

Nasuada looked uncharacteristically nervous. "Thank you, that is a good start, but I also want to tell your story. How you set out to avenge your uncle, Eragon, and how you both fought a Shade, rescued an elf, and were instrumental in the battle of Farthen Dür, and how you. . . fell in love."

Helena made a disgusted notice, but otherwise left the word to Eragon.

"But you don't know how we. . ." he seemed a little embarrassed to say the words, which Helena found endearing, "got together. We try to keep that private as much as possible."

"You could tell me," Nasuada offered with her palms pointing up in a harmless gesture. "Such a romantic tale would appeal to a lot of people."

"We won't beat Galbatorix with poets and bards," Eragon scowled.

"We might by winning the hearts of the people," Nasuada countered. "This will help with that."

Eragon hesitated and then turned to his fellow Rider for support. "You can't be okay with this."

Helena clicked her tongue. "Well I don't like it, that's for sure, but if it helps. . . well I am sure we will have to do lots of things that I don't like. I didn't like to be vassaled to anyone, but I agreed to it so that Nasuada would have the needed support to attack the empire. I don't think that having stories told of us is where I would draw the line." She pursed her lips. "It isn't like this is new for me. People will talk regardless; I say let it help us if it can."

"I suppose. . ." Eragon conceded unhappily.

"I just don't think there is much to say about us," Helena said to Nasuada. "Eragon and I have a lot in common and we like each other. What more is there to say? This 'love story'," Helena used her fingers to put brackets on the last two words. "is only interesting because we are interesting."

"That is enough," Nasuada smiled, "but more details would be nice."

Helena made another disgusted groaning sound. "I don't care about nice. None of this is _nice._ I am consenting because it is necessary."

Eragon didn't agree. "I fail to see how using our private affair as advertising would be necessary."

"Alright, I exaggerate," Helena admitted. "Because it helps," she amended.

"So no details. I suppose accuracy doesn't really matter, but then people will come up with their own versions," Nasuada warned.

"Inevitable," Helena shook her head. "But don't expect us to behave all lovey-dovey in public to boost morale or anything. That is where I will draw the line."

"That would be too much to ask of anyone," Nasuada said, though Helena couldn't tell whether she was serious or using some very dry humor. "I am looking forward to seeing all the odd and implausible versions your story will evolve into."

 _'If you can't stop the chaos, embrace and laugh at it instead. I like it,'_ Godric wryly commented to his Rider.

"Hold on, I still haven't agreed to this," Eragon objected, holding up a hand and frowning. "I have some dignity. All of this is. . . humiliating."

A small growl coming from Shapira indicated her agreement, or perhaps simply support of Eragon.

"I would call it embarrassing," Helena shrugged. "We are apparently willing to kill for this cause, but we aren't willing to endure a little embarrassment?"

"It's disrespectful," Eragon said, "to both you and me. Just because you are used to something doesn't make it okay. This is the same situation as with the whole _Dragonheart_ thing. If we go and tell tall tales just to get support, the Varden lose all integrity."

Helena pursed her lips, now starting to doubt as well. She looked to Nasuada to see if she had any further arguments.

If she did, she wasn't willing to use them. "Like I said, I don't want to do this without your approval. If you believe this goes against your principles, I won't push the issue. But even if we do nothing, tales will spread."

"Nothing can be done about that; just so long as you don't actively encourage it."

Nasuada sighed in an exaggerated manner. "Fine, but you can't argue away your other achievements. There is no shame in taking credit for what you _did_ do."

"No. there isn't," Eragon agreed. "Just don't lie about me, or us."

"So be it," Nasuada said, only allowing her disappointment to show in how flat her voice was. Despite not having protested the use of their love story as propaganda herself, Helena was relieved that Eragon had done so. "Now for the next issue, when will the duel for Du Vrangr Gata take place?"

"In two days," Helena answered. "Trianna is officially issuing her challenge as we speak."

"Then you will leave with Arya the same day," Nasuada announced. "Arya has made her impatience clear to me, and I see no reason to delay. If you mean to set Murtagh free, it is best you do that on that same day as well." Nasuada put the back of her head against the back of her chair with a sigh as if she had just finished a great homework assignment. "I mentioned earlier that we couldn't keep relying on the dwarves, didn't I?"

Helena nodded alongside Eragon.

"Well I reviewed the Varden's finances and it is even more true now than I thought. The dwarves had a poor harvest last year. They can't support us much longer, even if we could pay the full price for the grain, which we can't. We must move to Surda now more than ever. Even the council won't be able to protest it when I present them with the facts.

"I thought Surda's king. . ." Eragon's brows furrowed as he struggled to remember the name of Surda's monarch. "Orrin?" Nasuada nodded. "I thought he wanted to remain neutral?"

"He doesn't want to enter a war he can't win. With you at our side, we can," Nasuada explained.

"About your finances. . ." Helena brought attention to herself. "Would more gold help in the war against Galbatorix?" This was an idea she had toyed with ever since she learned about the Varden's poor resources and the young witch had come to a decision. Godric had even approved of it.

"Yes. . ." Nasuada said cautiously as if expecting a trap.

"Do you need a donation?" Helena tried to ask as casually as possible, studying her nails as she did so.

Nasuada's jaw dropped for half a second before responding in an even voice. "I am not in a position to refuse any monetary aid."

 _Does that mean she wants to turn me down but can't?_ Helena was familiar with people turning down her money out of pride, but she hadn't thought Nasuada to be like that.

"In that case. . . " Helena took out her magical pouch and reached into it, and called for all her Galleons. When she pulled back her hand, a river of gold flowed out of the opening, spilling on the floor in a continuous stream of metal clatters that last for two whole minutes.

Nasuada and Eragon watched the river of wealth accumulate in a small mountain on the floor in stunned silence.

When it was done and all the gold was out of her pocket, Helena looked and felt a pang of hurt from Nasuada's and Eragon's facial expressions. It was the same silent teeth grinding envious look that she always received whenever Helena showed of how rich she was to anyone not similarly loaded. Ron was hardly the only one who reacted such, though he was less able to hide his jealously than most.

"Just how much gold do you have?" Nasuada asked, wide-eyed.

Helena motioned towards the gold pile that was about half her own height. "This is it."

"That is all you own? And you are giving it all to me?" Nasuada asked incredulously. "

"To the Varden," Helena corrected. "To defeat Galbatorix."

"But this was your parents'. This is your inheritance!" Eragon protested.

"Precisely," the now penniless Rider replied. "It belonged and was build up by my ancestors. I never earned it myself. I feel no particular attachment to it."

Nasuada, Eragon, and even Saphira looked at Helena as she had just grown a second head. It was clear that her disregard for her own inheritance was anathema to them.

"Besides," Helena shrugged philosophically. "Considering my new lifespan, I have an eternity to earn back all this." She motioned towards the gold pile. "So long as we beat Galbatorix anyway, and if we don't, I wouldn't have had a chance to spend all my money regardless."

"That is one way to look at it," Nasuada said with a ponderous expression, her eyes staring down at her desk before giving Helena an intense look. "I don't mean to seem ungrateful; I just don't like the thought of owing you this much."

"Don't worry about it," Helena said. Despite her dismissive words, Helena felt reassured at the thought of Nasuada feeling indebted to her. It would make it even more unlikely for the black skinned women to abuse the new authority she had over her new vassals.

"Hmm. . . well you save me a great deal of trouble. Few things are as expansive as war."

"Will you have enough now?" Helena asked. She knew she had just given away a great deal of money, but if her fortune was enough to win a war by itself she would have done it during the second blood war. Sadly, Voldemort – and more importantly his supporters – could out spend her several times over.

Nasuada sighed wearily. "You can never have enough gold, but we are no longer in danger of starving."

"But Galbatorix still has greater resources," Eragon guessed.

"If we are talking gold, silver, and jewels, you are right, but once the war starts, the value of such precious metals will drop, and simple necessities like food, leather, and iron will become more important."

"And the dwarves are the greatest producers of iron," Eragon added.

"Which we now might afford to buy from them if we haggle well enough, to name just one of the concerns that I must deal with," Nasuada said. "But you don't need to worry about that. All of our preparations won't matter if you four –" Nasuada gave a quick acknowledging glance towards both dragons "– don't become powerful enough to deal with Galbatorix and Shruikan personally." Nasuada shot another weary look at the gold pile in her office. "Now I need to find a way to transport this to our treasure, preferably without involving too many people."

"I could put it back in my pouch and deliver it," Helena offered.

"That would ideal, yes. Speaking of that magical bag of yours, can you make more of them that we can use? It would make the trade and transport of goods a lot cheaper."

 _What was it that Hagrid had said? If the muggles ever found out about magic they would want us to solve all their problems for them?_ "I don't know how to enchant one myself," Helena said honestly.

"Find a way to do it," Nasuada ordered. "Such a thing, it would probably be even more valuable than the gold you just gave me if you can make even a dozen of them."

"I'll see what I can do," Helena promised and began to summon her galleons back into her pouch for transport.

"Good, then if there is nothing else, make sure that you are ready to leave in two days. It would help if you are _seen_ to prepare to leave as soon as today, so as to confuse our enemies."

"Wait, what about you?" Eragon blurted out. "I know how important it is for us to grow stronger, but will you be safe without us here? We swore a vow to protect you."

"That is a concern, but I am well protected, and will try not to take risks concerning my safety. That is the best I can do given the circumstances. So long as you deal with the twins, I will be fine. The council won't risk apposing me openly for fear of tearing the Varden apart, and king Orrin will offer me his protection once I am in Surda."

"The council said something similar," Eragon commented wryly. "They claimed you wouldn't go against them for fear of what it would do to the Varden."

Nasuada narrowed her eyes in annoyance. "I am in charge, not them," she said stubbornly. "And they will have to accept that, or I will replace them. Now go, and take these riches to Umérth. He will know what to do with them."

xxxxxxxx

Two days later, on the morning of the duel, Helena had shared as much of her knowledge with Trianna as she had time to, though it had been harder to meet these two days with so much scrutiny falling on the sorceress.

They arrived at another underground amphitheatre, though it was smaller than the one where Nasuada was coronated. A long walkway stood in the center with uncomfortably hard stone seats raising up several levels surrounding it. Eragon had told her he wished he had brought a cushion so Helena cast a cushioning charm on their bench and the one above them. She refrained from charming all the benches since magicians could get nervous when unknown spells are used in their vicinity.

All of Du vrangr Gata had been gathered for the duel and it was the first time that Helena received a good idea of the number of magicians the Varden could call on. The answer, it appeared, was well over a hundred, perhaps even a hundred and fifty. Comparing that to the total number of fighting men that were a part of the Varden, that meant there was at least one magician for every thirty non-magicians. Compared to the magic to muggle ratio in her own world, that was a lot, Helena reflected. Nasuada did mention that magical talent was the only area were they _weren't_ outnumbered.

Helena had seen many of the gathered magicians before, but because most of them didn't dress any different than other humans, she hadn't had any way to know them for what they were.

"Not all of the magicians gathered here are part of Du Vrangr Gate," Orik – who now sat one row above her – started to explain without prompting. "None of the dwarven spellcasters are a part of Du Vrangr Gata. Hrothgar would never allow our magicians this much. . ." Helena watched as Orik struggled to find a diplomatic way to explain their magicians lack of freedom. 'leeway' was the word he settled on. "Don't misunderstand. Our magicians aren't restricted when it comes to personal lives or anything, but they are too powerful for them to be loyal to whomever they choose."

Ordinarily, Helena might have started an argument here, but she was too nervous for the coming fight to start even more trouble.

The young rider looked at Trianna on the center stage, dressed as ostentatiously as when she first met the Riders in her room, and hoped Helena was just projecting her own nerves and Trianna wasn't really that pale.

The twin she was fighting – as usual there was no way to tell them apart – stood at other side of the walkway, a confident smirk on his face. Helena hoped that it was simple overconfidence.

The fighting twin's counterpart sat on a bench at the same height but at the other side of the room. He met Helena's eyes as she studied him and her hope that Trianna would be underestimated vanished. He wasn't smiling, but frowned at her instead. It was clear that he at least suspected her hand in the current duel, which meant that his counterpart knew as well.

To Helena's left, Arya leaned towards her and spoke in a voice too quiet for anyone else to hear. "Was this your idea to 'deal' with the twins?"

"More or less," Helena whispered back. The concept of 'empower their rivals' was Murtagh's idea, but the execution was thanks to her.

"I am aware of the powers of all off Du Vrangre Gata's magicians," Arya said back. She didn't whisper; she just spoke at a lower volume. "Trianna cannot win this fight." A mental knock on her mind informed Helena that Arya wished to continue to talk mentally. Helena accepted the elf into her head. _'The twins have scratched the surface of a power that my people have long since safeguarded. They can share their powers between them. Trianna is outnumbered two to one.'_

 _'Is that allowed?'_ Helena asked, a spark of worry raising in her chest.

 _'For them to forbid it, they would have to know that it is possible first, and they absolutely mustn't know. The twins believe that their close bond allows them to merge their powers, and while that makes it easier, there is no limit to how far you can take this ability.'_

Before this moment, Helena had assumed that, just like the twins with each other, that her close bond with Godric was what allowed them to share resources. Clearly that wasn't the case.

 _'Why is this such an important secret?!_ ' Helena argued angrily. _'If we reveal the secret, we can remove the other twin from the room and make it fair fight.'_ Even if Trianna could speak the Ancient Language as if it was her mother tongue – which she couldn't yet – that wouldn't save her if the twins could simply overpower her. At most she could force a mutual death.

 _'We cannot,'_ Arya said firmly. _'I can't tell you why not; it isn't my place to reveal those secrets. All I will say is that this well goes deeper than you can imagine. We must prevent anyone from looking too closely. You must trust me in this.'_

Helena was about to tell the elf that she would need to do better if she wanted to convince her, but time ran out.

"We are gathered here to witness the challenge –" an older member of the Varden began to announce the start of the duel.

 _'We can't let this continue,'_ Helena fretted, one hand already on her bench to push her up and do. . . she didn't yet know what.

 _'It's too late now,'_ Arya put a hand on her shoulder to prevent her from doing anything rash. The old man had started a countdown. _'This wouldn't have happened if you had simply told me of your plan,'_ Arya reprimanded.

"Begin!" the announcer signaled with a chop of his arm.

"Longa!" Triaanna shouted the name of the spirit from her story. The golden arm wrist that Trianna never seemed to take off exploded with light that was alive with movement. The light withered around Trianna, making those looking shield their eyes at the intensity. The light dimmed and they could see a translucent snake now circling around the one who had summoned it. It was so long that its body could wrap around the space surrounding Trianna several times.

Helena felt a shiver go down her body. While this thing was likely on Trianna's side, Helena felt exposed. Like she was sitting unarmed and naked in a cage with a hungry wyvern. Immediately, Godric's mind joined with hers, preparing for combat. To her right, Eragon too readied himself by removed his glove and revealing the gedwey ignasia.

"Be calm," Arya tried to sooth Helena with a hand rubbing the agitated Riders back. Eragon attention shifted to listen to what the elven princess had to say. "A spirit can play on people's emotion to appear friendly or dangerous as suits is purpose. The spirit is trying to make itself seem more dangerous than it is." On the podium, both Trianna and the twin she was fighting had their eyes closed, as their minds wrestled for dominance. The snake continued to circle and hiss at the twin, but didn't do more than that. "A sorcerers cannot risk summoning a spirit that is stronger than herself lest she risks possession," Arya continued to explain. "Don't worry, even if that spirit is more powerful than expected and turns its summoner into a Shade, it will be surrounded. Be ready for anything, but don't attack yet."

Helena settled back into her chair. Godric didn't fully leave her mind, but he eased as well to watch the battle. She wasn't so sure that the spirit had to be less powerful than Trianna. If the story Trianna showed her was to be believed, the spirit served willingly in return for other favours.

"We should have predicted that Trianna would start with this," Arya frowned unhappily, once again speaking out loud. "I know she has only demonstrated this ability once before at Ajihad's request. It is incredibly dangerous, but she knows she will need every advantage she can find."

Unlike a wizard's duel back home, a magician's duel in Alagasia wasn't a spectator sport. Most of the fighting happened internally and even those in the audience capable of interacting on such a level, weren't allowed to leave their bodies to watch the battle of wills for fear that they would distract, or worse, help, one of the combatants.

Arya's warning about the twins sharing their power referred to the energy needed to cast spells, not mental prowess. Almost every magician was aware of that potential for cooperation, so they made sure that no such cheating could occur.

For more than five minutes, Trianna and the twin had their eyes closed as they battled. Trianna's snake spirit had started to circle the twin. Helena wasn't sure if a spirit could interact with physical objects, but even if all it could do was influence emotions and so distract the twin, it would be a valuable advantage for Trianna.

Still, judging by their facial expressions, it was the twin who first managed to pierce Trianna's mind. The twin's lips started to move as he worded a spell, too silent for anyone to hear.

It was subtle and faint but Helena could feel the wards around Trianna fending off attacks.

Helena smiled. She had shared with her new apprentice the same wards that Arya had given her before the battle of Farthun Dür. The wards were the only piece of the Ancient Language that Helena hadn't translated for Trianna. It had been at the sorceress's own suggestion to deny herself the knowledge. What she didn't know, the twins couldn't pull from her head in the event that her mental defenses were breached. Trianna didn't know what her wards would defend against so there was no way for the twin to find out. He would either have to cast spells at random, hoping one would get through, or challenge her wards directly and risk running out of power. Defending against a spell was less costly than attacking with it so he would have to be extremely confident in his power advantage to try that.

Trianna began to whisper words of power herself, though if she had thrown her opponent out of her mind yet, Helena couldn't tell. The spirit she had summoned started to glow more strongly and light, acting more like smoke, started to flow from it to the sorceress.

The twin hurriedly began to whisper counter spells, abandoning any semblance of offence as he scrambled to save his own life. Though she couldn't make out any details, Helena felt the small tendrils of power Trianna sent out being slapped away by the twin's magic. It was a contest that heavily favoured Trianna now as she only needed one spell to succeed to win, while her opponent had to find a way past her wards while also fending off any attacks. Occasionally one of Trianna's spells was blocked by the twin's own wards, but they were obviously not anywhere near as extensive as the ones Trianna now enjoyed.

Helena felt a small hand gripping her shoulder, hard. She turned around and found Arya staring at her, a look of dawning horror on her face. "What did you do?" The words were quiet as before but now the tone had changed to a harsh whisper.

It was obvious what she had done. "I shared all that I know of the Ancient Language with her," Helena answered.

"Those powers were not meant for her!" the horror on Arya's face morphed into anger so fast that it caught Helena completely by surprise. "It was a mistake to hurry your development along."

"No it wasn't," the female rider responded, trying not to respond to Arya's show of emotion. She felt the need to be as calm as possible in the face of the elven princess' emotion. "Besides, the old order should never have hoarded the power of magic as they did."

"Arrogance," Arya accused. "You don't even know what you are destroying. Do you have the faintest idea what this could lead to?"

"I know that whatever Trianna does with her new powers will reflect back on me." To be honest, Helena still didn't feel comfortable that Trianna wouldn't abuse her new powers. It was difficult for Helena to accept how unashamedly ambitious her new apprentice was in the pursuit of magical power.

"This goes beyond you." The elf's eyes were cold. "You had no right to share those secrets."

It was Eragon who responded this time, leaning sideways so his face was close to the arguing women. "We are the Riders now Arya; the only ones left. Who if not us has the right?"

Helena felt herself smiling at Eragon's defense of her choice. She knew he had doubts, but he would stand by her in the face of outside ridicule.

Arya shook her head. "You should have waited until you were wiser."

"Until we agreed with everything you wanted you mean." Helena knew it was mistake the moment she said it.

Arya snorted. "It seems Brom has failed in tuatha du orothrim." And with those words, she sat back strait in her chair and observed the battle.

 _'Tuatha du orothrim,'_ it meant 'tempering the fool's wisdom,' Helena knew. Brom said that was what he was trying to do with Eragon, and with Helena to a lesser extent, but he had still focused more on the practical than Helena suspected was normal for a new Rider's training. That was one of the things she liked about Brom. Arya's outburst didn't give her much hope that whatever trainer they would get with the elves would be as accommodating.

 _If they would even teach me after this,_ Helena thought sourly to herself, not for the first time in the last few days.

 _'Do not put all your hopes in whatever grey beard the elves put forward as a tutor,'_ Godric warned. _'Even if they were to show remarkable wisdom in wanting you to become as powerful as possible, nobody has your particular magical talents. You must look inward to grow, not wait for others to do it for you.'_

Helena knew that it was good advice, but she hoped Godric was wrong. Without the aid of the elves, she had no idea how to contact her friends back home. Also, if all of the elves were as powerful as Arya, it wouldn't do to offend them by dismissing their aid.

There was a choking sound from below and the fighting twin spat blood on the ground before collapsing on the ground, spasming.

Trianna raised one of her arms sideways, looking smugly satisfied. Her sprit spun around it in increasingly small circles before reforming back into a bracelet.

A high pitched 'Aaaahhhhh!' came from the surviving twin. It was a sound of a man who just had one of his limbs cut off, speaking more of horror and denial than pain. After a few seconds, the sound ceased and he started to make his way forward, pushing part any in his way as if swimming through people.

Helena watched the spectacle with her heart tying itself in nods. The juxtaposition of such an incredibly human and familiar emotion as loss on the odious man making her feel absurdly guilty. She could well imagine what he had to be feeling right now; it was likely worse as what she had felt when Sirius died.

Trianna watched the brother of the man she killed coldly but made no more move to hinder him than anyone else did.

After reaching his brothers corpse, the magician quickly worked through his denial and reached the second stage of grave, anger. Considering that he first looked to Eragon and Helena, it was clear that he had figured out where Trianna's boost in effectiveness came from.

"I sure hope you were right about the Egraz Carnv's treachery," Orik spoke to the Riders one seat below him. "Because if he wasn't loyal to Galbatorix before, I promise you, he is now."

Helena didn't respond, only looked into her enemy's eye. Through the wetness of his tears she could read that, to this man who previously thought of nothing but his own advancement, her death had now become more important than his own life.

 _'He is the evil villain, a traitor and a liar,'_ Helena told herself in an effort to stop sympathizing.

"Don't worry," Eragon told her as he grabbed her hand reassuringly. "We will be gone by the end of the day, and Trianna, will have taken care of him by the time we return."

"Or maybe Nasuada," Orik told them with a grim smile. "I doubt she will allow such an obvious wound to fester in the Varden's midst."

Contrarily to Eragon and Orik's predictions, neither Trianna nor Nasuada had a chance to finish what had been started. The following day, when the Riders had already left for the elves, the surviving twin had disappeared, the men who had been sent to watch him slain. Though nobody knew what route he took to flee, none doubted his destination, nor that they would hear from him again.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

A mere two hours after the duel, Helena apparated to an out of the way spot outside Farthen Dür. She couldn't bring them far from the mountain city due to her link with Godric, but it was far enough into the wilderness for their purposes. Nasuada said she would make sure none of her people would get in the way, though she was unwilling to give away any of the few horses the Varden had to help in the escape.

"So here we are," Helena announced with a frown and overdone solemnity, arms held stiffly crossed in front of her chest.

"I suppose," Murtagh said, not looking at them but instead inspecting the small bag of supplies that Eragon had given him.

"You don't need to leave," Eragon tried once again. "The remaining twin won't be a problem for much longer, and we could still use your help."

"The Varden could," Murtagh corrected him, sighed, finally looked at his once traveling companions, and gave up on his apparent attempt to leave without any further words being exchanged. "You will leave for the elves to train, and I can't follow. I would be alone here."

"Whereas wandering the wilderness will give you so much company," Helena retorted acidly.

The corners of Murtagh's mouth lifted. "It might. Who knows what lies far East of the Edda river, or South, far beyond the Beor Mountains. I may find people who have never heard of Morzan or of Galbatorix." He sighed again and scratched his hair. It was clear he didn't want this conversation to stretch out too long. "I think it is better this way. We are too different, and you can't make me into someone I am not."

That last part was directed at her, Helena knew. At a loss of any further words to argue with, yet wanting her displeasure known, she led lose a deep growl that sounded more like a dog's growl than anything a human woman would make.

Murtagh seemed to find it more amusing than anything. He smiled sadly at her. "Helena, you once told me that I should examine the kind of man I want to become, and make sure that I wouldn't have any regrets in a few years. Now let me warn you in turn. Years from now, if you continue to push your ideals and morals on the world like you did me, and the world eventually pushes back and crushes you, I hope that you too, can look back without regret."

Helena felt a chill running over her at the words and now she too wanted this goodbye to be over as fast as possible.

Murtagh addressed Eragon. "I have no fond memories of my sire, in what little I can recall of the man. I do not consider Morzan my father; Tornac held that honor in my mind. But if I reject Morzan as my father, then I cannot embrace you as a brother. And yet, whatever your opinion of me, I consider you the closest friend I ever had. Considering my own low opinion of family bonds, that is far more significant."

Eragon opened his mouth, slowly closed it again without speaking, and then opened it again. "However much I may disapprove of your choice, you are not a bad person Murtagh."

"I know," He smirked, lifted his bag over his shoulder and walked out into the wilderness and out of their lives.

* * *

AN:

Wow, I think it is about a year since I started writhing this story. I know the publishing date says 14 Jan, but I started well before that. This is the part where I always wanted to end 'part 1' of the story; when they are about to leave for the elves.

Sadly, the next part of this story will not go as smoothly. As I said, I have resumed my education whereas before I only did a little volunteer work here and there. As a result, I will have a lot less free time. Also, while writing this is rewarding, it does take effort and I only have so much effort to spend. Beyond that, the next update in particular will take a long time, since I want to build up a surplus of chapters again before posting. It is possible that the next update will take a year or several even.

Beyond that, I now have to go through the tedious journey through the dwarven cities to reach the elves. I think we can all agree that the dwarves were the least interesting part of IC. Getting through this journey will be a chore.

I thank you all for sticking with me as long as you have, and I will try to finish this story eventualy, even if it will take a while before you hear from me again.


	25. Eragon (interlude III?)

**I truly cannot be trusted when I say I will or won't update can I? Mind you, I had every intention to wait to post this when I stared writing it, but the instant gratification of being able to share it was too great. I'm sure your all broken up about it.  
Also, MARRY CHRISTMAS! That was another reason for this surprise chapter.**

I truly don't know what I'll do from now on when it comes to updates. I am sorry I'm so unreliable.

 **Special thanks to CerealReader for weeding out the mistakes in this chapter. Any further mistakes. . . blame ff for not transferring text correctly.**

Lastly, in this chapter the story officially earns its M rating. Last chance to bail.

* * *

They stood there on that patch of ground for a long time, long after Murtagh was out of sight.

"I am sorry," Eragon tried to reassure Helena, when finally, he couldn't stand the silence anymore. "I know this isn't how you wanted this to end."

Helena turned to face him, and in her eyes, Eragon could see that Murtagh's parting words had shaken her. "Eragon," she spoke slowly, softly, "is there any truth to what Murtagh said about me? Do I force my views on others?"

"I don't think so," he answered without really thinking about it. "At least I never felt like that," he amended, though he wasn't sure he meant it; Helena had vexed him more than once over the last week. Her disappointment over his determination to see the Urgals pay for their crimes being the first thing to come to mind. Still, it wasn't like she _forced_ him to do or think anything. She merely didn't stay quiet about her opinion. And yet. . . yes, Eragon knew what Murtagh was talking about when he mentioned Helena's disappointed look. And that wasn't even mentioning her insistence on giving away Rider secrets, though to be fair, Eragon hadn't objected as much as he could have. It was difficult for him to argue against it when all he had was doubts when she displayed nothing but certainty.

But that wasn't something that she needed to hear right now. "You care, and you care deeply, about good and evil," he continued to say and this time he didn't doubt his own words. "How can I – how can anyone – begrudge you that, when it is that very caring that drives you to fight for a world that isn't even your own."

Helena nodded slowly, considering his words. "Yes." She smiled to herself and Eragon congratulated himself for it. "Yes, there is nothing wrong with pushing someone to be better than they are."

Eragon managed to keep the frown from his face. That wasn't exactly what he had meant. There was a measure of arrogance in claiming to know what was best for someone, even better than they knew it themselves. He didn't agree with how harsh Murtagh had been with her, but he understood why his brother – and yes Eragon still somehow considered Murtagh such – hadn't been fond of his Helena these past few weeks. Wasn't it Helena herself who wanted him to respect other people's cultures? Yet when they were researching the dwarven customs, he noticed how much his fellow rider disapproved of them.

He wasn't going to mention that though, at least not now.

 _'You do her no favors by not sharing your observations, just to spare her feelings,'_ Saphira reproached him in his mind.

 _'Later, when things are less tense,'_ he promised. He looked forward to the coming days of simple traveling, with no plots, enemies, or important decisions to worry them.

But speaking of important decisions. . . "Before we return there is one more thing we need to discuss."

"Hmm?"

"Orik brought me an interesting offer yesterday. I didn't want to bring it up while the Murtagh situation was still unresolved," he said. What he didn't say was that he also wanted some time to think on it before sharing the news. Make sure that he knew what he wanted before Helena would sweep him along in whatever she wanted like with the twins. Decisive and driven woman, his little colleague.

At a look from her, Eragon continued. "Hrothgar has offered to adopt us in his clan, _Dûrgrimst Ingeitum."_

As Eragon expected, Helena rolled her head upwards and groaned. "Let me guess, we can't refuse without offending?"

 _This,_ this right here, was why he had told Orik he wanted to discuss it with Helena in private before the dwarf made the offer to her in person.

He raised a questioning eyebrow. "Do you want to refuse?"

Helena crossed her arms in front of chest. "I question Hrothgar's motives. I doubt he is so fond of us that he views us as family."

"That this is political move is obvious, even to me, but that doesn't mean we should refuse it out of hand. I don't think Hrothgar would have offered it, regardless of what it would gain him, if he didn't think us worthy of the honor. And it _is_ an honor," he insisted, "no human has ever been given this chance."

"But what would be expected of us? Would it make us beholden to Hrothgar, as well as Nasuada."

"I don't know, but we are already beholden to Hrothgar. By gratitude and duty. The Riders are supposed to protect and serve everyone, including the dwarves. Even without this, we would have a hard time refusing any reasonable request that Hrothgar could make of us."

Judging by her frown, she wasn't convinced. "Then what is the point of it. We could do all that without being adopted. Making promises or swearing oaths is one thing, but you can't force, trick, or maneuver anyone into feeling like family."

"There is that," Eragon allowed. He hadn't been thrilled when he received the offer either. "But can we refuse?"

"That was my question wasn't it," Helena smiled wryly. "And should we even? I mean, will the offer stand when Hrothgar guesses at our involvement in Murtagh's escape? He specifically warned us not to do that. I can't imagine he will be pleased."

"I have thought of that," Eragon said, and he had. "To minimize damage, we will need to confess our part in this, and why we did it. I doubt he will be happy, but it is better that we are upfront about it. He can decide whether or not to retract his offer then, but we must decide what _we_ want first."

"How public is this offer already?"

"I don't know, but even if Hrothgar is the only one who would know, we shouldn't spurn him lightly. Besides, perhaps this will help us. Attending a few family dinners would be a small price to pay to make the dwarves more friendly towards us." Eragon reflected that Helena had had a point when she said they would have to do a lot of things that they didn't like if they wanted to succeed. This didn't seem like a great sacrifice. "And who knows? If we keep an open mind, perhaps we will one day view someone like Orik as family."

"Stranger things have happened," Helena agreed and Eragon could see by her contemplative expression that she was coming around to the idea. "I guess I am just afraid that I will end up disappointing them if I agree to– what they consider a huge honor, with halfhearted resolve like that."

"That wouldn't be your fault. They offered it to you– us, while having a decent grasp of the kind of people we are."

Helena still looked a little stubborn. "We are not changing ourselves on their behalf."

"We will try to understand them and make an effort to get along," Eragon tried to sound firm. "Which is something we have been doing since this began, haven't we?"

"I guess there is some truth to that," Helena sighed. "Very well," she conceded with all the enthusiasm of a child forced to clean her bedroom.

Eragon couldn't help but give her a soft hug while patting her back. "There, there," he said soothingly. "I will protect you from all the mean in-laws."

"My hero," she gushed and pretended to swoon in his arms.

Though Eragon didn't start off with any ulterior motives when he hugged her, the way Helena felt as she was pressed against him urged him to lift her face up by her chin to face him and kiss her repeatedly. After a moment's surprise, she started to reciprocate and seemed to melt herself even closer to him.

At that moment, Eragon decided that it wasn't so bad Murtagh had left. Perhaps he really was a. . . what was expression Helena used again? Ah yes, a third wheel.

Eventually, after about a minute, Eragon forced himself to step back from Helena, holding her shoulders with his hands so she couldn't follow. It all started to get a bit much for him. Any more and he felt he wouldn't be able to control himself anymore, and he couldn't allow that.

They weren't even married yet.

"We shouldn't keep the world waiting," he said, still smiling.

 _'Indeed,'_ Saphira's said slowly, drawing out the word in teasing manner. _'Arya especially has been getting impatient. I didn't want to interrupt, however.'_

They could go from Hrothgar straight to Orik and Arya. All their personal possessions had already been loaded up and attached to Godric and Saphira. There wasn't much to be honest. Eragon didn't own anything important besides, Zar'roc and Saphira's saddle. Helena kept everything magically sealed in her pouch and the dragon armor would leave with the Varden to Surda.

"I suppose," Helena sighed, and Eragon was glad that she sounded disappointed. "Grab on, then," she said, reaching out an arm for him to gab.

He resisted the urge to groan and grabbed her arm. Three seconds later, the world started spinning again and he was being squeezed through a hole that was way too small. Eragon wondered if it was just their souls that were traveling through space when Helena apparated them. Certainly, their physical bodies would never survive such abuse.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Hrothgar wasn't in his throne room. As this wasn't a scheduled visit or summons from the king, it made sense that he wasn't there. When asked, they were directed to the dwarven monarch's personal study.

According to one of the king's guards, Hrothgar was currently reading over reports of the last sightings of Urgal activity in the region. It was nothing that couldn't be delayed for a short visit, and they were let in without issue; a testament to the new respect and trust these dwarves now had for them.

Hrothgar's study took Eragon by surprise. While the young rider could understand and even respect modesty, the furniture in this room looked outright worn-out. The edges of the simple wooden table were worn away and several ink spots dotted the surface. Ajihad's study, while not overly ostentatious by any means, still gave the impression of refinement. This place. . . didn't.

Still. . . Eragon felt comfortable in this room. It had a familiar feel; not shiny perhaps, but full of history.

"It is good to see you, though this is surprise," Hrothgar greeted them, motioning towards a collection of stools that were stacked on top of each other. "I had expected that you would leave for the elves as soon as possible, thought I can guess your purpose."

Eragon pulled two chairs from the top of stack and gave one to Helena. The chairs were as old as the table.

"I take it you are here regarding my offer of adoption into _Dûrgrimst_ Ingeitum?" Hrothgar continued.

"It is related, your majesty," Eragon nodded, both in agreement and in deference. "And we would be honored to accept, if it will still be offered at the end of this meeting."

"That sounds ominous," Hrothgar said mildly, crossing his fingers together. "Why would it not?"

Eragon briefly looked to Helena for support and found her doing the same. "We freed Murtagh," he said.

Hrothgar's featured tightened. "I see. I feared that you would. I think I _specifically_ warned you, not to do this exact thing not even three days hence." The king took a long breath. "Why did you take matters into your own hands? Could you not trust us to do the right thing?"

"We made a promise," Eragon said. "In order to convince Murtagh to follow us to the Varden, we promised him that we would protect him if they turned on him."

"He shouldn't have come here in the first place, if he was so reluctant. Still. . . a tricky situation," Hrothgar admitted. "You chose the path that would preserve the most of your honor. I suppose I can understand, but you must be more careful with your promises. If your word means that much to you – as it should – than you should be all the more careful of when you give it."

"We didn't expect Murtagh to call us out on it, or for it to become necessary, not like this" Helena pouted unhappily.

"My point exactly," Hrothgar said and his brows furrowed. "The offer to join my clan is still open."

As Eragon wondered if he could be brazen enough to question the king's intentions, Helena went ahead and did it. "And what do you expect from us?" she asked and Eragon thought her tone was just on the wrong side of the curiosity/accusatory line.

Thankfully, Hrothgar didn't seem to mind. "I understand your suspicious, especially because it is warranted. I do have some ulterior motives. If the Riders are going to return, then I want my people to have a say and a voice in this new old power. Considering how you swore fealty to a human and will be trained by the elves, I don't think my desire to restore balance in unwarranted."

"But what do you expect?" Helena repeated, sounding more curious instead of tense now that Hrothgar was showing his hand.

"Hear, listen, and learn," the dwarf king answered cryptically. "Now go on; you have a long journey ahead of you. Give Orik your answer and he will take care of the rest."

xxxxxxxxxxx

After yet another unpleasant teleportation, they arrived at an underground road where Arya, Orik, Saphira, and Godric were waiting. Helena, being more used to the experience of her magical means of travel, managed to stay on her feet. Eragon, being unwilling to risk dragging his fellow rider to the ground in an attempt to stay upright, fell on his sides.

"I am glad you have arrived," Arya said blandly while Eragon was dragging his body from floor. It was clear she was still upset about the sharing of Rider secrets.

"Just a moment," Orik said. "Could you go on ahead Arya, we will catch up."

There was an uncomfortably long pause. Long enough for Eragon to pat his pants to remove the dirt. "Very well," the elf conceded. "I will go get Nasuada so we may properly say goodbye." She angled a surprisingly non-hostile look at Helena and Eragon; it was amazing how fast that women could switch between moods. "Don't feel too bad, Hrothgar did not leave you much choice." And with that, Arya started walking through the tunnel.

As soon as she was out of sight, though whether it was far enough to escape the elf's hearing was questionable, Orik addressed them. "I assume you have had some time to think about Hrothgar's offer. Contrary what Arya thinks, you do have a choice."

"Yes, and we have made it," Eragon said and shot a look at Helena, urging her to answer for them.

"We graciously accept joining _Dûrgrimst_ Ingeitum," she said, and even managed to sound sincere. Eragon had always doubted Helena whenever she claimed she wasn't a good liar.

Orik nodded with approval and handed them a stone. "Whenever we dwarves – which you will now count as – wish to make a binding oath. We do it by wetting a Knurlnien, a heart of stone, with our blood and speaking the words."

Eragon really hoped no magic was involved here. It wasn't like they could turn back now without giving even more insult than if they had just refused from the beginning.

"What will this oath entail?" Eragon asked.

Orik started to list a bunch of obligations, none of which sounded too arduous, and many of them boiled down to helping their new kin whenever they needed help. Helping people in need was what they were supposed to do regardless.

Orik recited the words they needed to say in dwarvish, followed by their translation. Both Helena and Eragon cut their blood without objections, neither being very squeamish by this point. Both Riders immediately healed the small cut on their hands themselves. Eragon knew that Helena thought that it was better that she takes care of such small magics, since it didn't cost her any energy, but Eragon didn't want to grow too dependent on her.

At the end, Orik presented Eragon with a helm with the heraldry of the _Dûrgrimst_ Ingeitum, a hammer surrounded by twelve stars and Helena received a necklace with the same symbol. Both also received a ring. "Ha! Whatever the other clans may have to say about it, we are foster brother and sister now. How does it feel?"

"Are the other clans likely to object?" Eragon asked, not answering Orik's own question. He agreed and managed to convince Helena to agree specifically to avoid troubles.

"Some might," Orik shrugged. "But only Hrothgar has a say in who gets adopted into _our_ clan. Anyway, you have both acted admirably and with respect, not even counting your service in defending our city. You are worthy, and we will defend you and your honor now as we would our own."

"I confess that it wasn't an easy decision for me," Helena said carefully, "but I will try to make sure none of us come to regret this."

"Just keep doing as you have been, and all will be fine," Orik reassured. "Normally we would have a feast to commemorate this grand occasion, but events move too swiftly for us to tarry. Celebrations will come later, but I assure you, they will come. Honor demands it."

"Honor demands we have a party," Helena commented wryly.

"Of course! Something to recognize the significance of this occasion; this has never happened before, after all."

That sounded good to Eragon, and judging by her smile, Helena agreed. "Well I will look forward to it. I missed the last feast, after all."

Nasuada must have been waiting for a notice since it didn't take long for Arya to bring the black skinned woman to them. Judging by how labored her breathing was, the human must have run part of the way to keep up with the impatient elf.

Eragon wasn't worried about his liege's reaction to their handling of the dwarves. He had discussed the matter with Nasuada before he had even told Helena. Though it looked as if it pained her to admit it, Nasuada said that it was a good idea to accept, though the final decision was, of course, his. His and Helena's.

"I suppose I should reintroduce myself now," Helena grinned as she moved toward Nasuada. "Hello, my name Helena Potter _Ingeitum."_

"I guessed as much," Nasuada said, returning the grin. Those two had gotten along surprisingly quickly, Eragon reflected. He respected Nasuada a great deal, but he wasn't sure he could call her a friend yet; Helena did.

"It doesn't work like that," Orik interjected before both women could talk more. "A clan's name is not the same as a human family name or honor-name. You must not use it as such when introducing yourselves. You are Helena Potter of Dûrgrimst Ingeitum if you want to announce your association with us."

"Why?" Eragon asked. Considering Orik's firmness in corrected the small error, there must be more to it.

Orik seemed glad that he had asked. "Ingeitum was the honor name of the one who founded the clan. If you use it like Spell-master did, you would falsely claim yourself his descendant."

Eragon was about to ask who this first Ingeitum was, but Nasuada cut him off.

"As interesting as this is, we can't dally long." Her gaze seemed to focus on Helena. "Did your last mission go well?"

Helena hesitated a moment before replying. "We succeeded."

"What mission?" Orik asked curiously.

"A secret one," Nasuada answered the dwarf before either Eragon or Helena had a chance. She looked from Helena to Eragon. "The fewer people who know of it the better. Do not speak of it unless there is no choice."

Eragon was sure that Orik would be able to reason it out himself once he learned of Murtagh's escape, but Nasuada was probably right. The fewer people who knew, the better. Most would suspect, of course, but nobody would have proof so long as they, and Hrothgar, kept their mouths shut.

Orik huffed. "Great, now I will spend the next few months pulling my beard out, trying to guess at it instead."

"You have my sympathies," Nasuada said with a perfectly straight face. "Now, I have one more task for you," Nasuada pulled all scroll from the sleeves of her dress and presented it to Helena. "This is a missive for queen Islanzadi. It details all of my plans and a plea to reinitiate diplomatic contact. Arya has agreed to press our case, but I would like you to deliver this personally."

"Sounds easy enough." Helena took the scroll and sealed it in her magic pouch.

"Then all that is left is for me to wish you all well on your journey. Eragon, Helena, Saphira, Godric. Remember that you carry all our hopes with you, so acquit yourself well."

"We will do our best." "I always try to," Helena and Eragon replied respectively.

Satisfied that the goodbyes were over, Arya escorted Nasuada back towards wherever she came from. The elf assured them that shouldn't wait for her and that she would catch up to them soon enough.

And so began their journey through the mountain. Eragon was thankful it would only be for a short afternoon. If they were to travel solely over land, it would have made sense for them to traverse more of the underground passages, as that was shortest route through the Beor Mountains. However, because they were such a small group, it was decided that Saphira and Godric could fly them towards their destination, and so it made sense to reach the outside as soon as possible.

They walked in silence and Eragon was glad of it. The last few weeks had been hectic, moving from one problem to the next, and he welcomed the reprieve. A part of him couldn't help but see this new journey to the elves, and even the coming days of training, as a period of rest. Yes, he knew that it would be difficult, but they were unlikely to find any life threatening encounters within the isolated realm of the elves.

Of course, when he said they traveled in silence, that didn't mean there was no talking. Saphira was eager to share her excitement at feeling the wind again and he felt the same. They had flown in the empty void that surrounded Tronjheim, but that was different. Eragon's own enthusiasm was dimmed only by the knowledge that Arya would be flying with them.

Not that he had anything against Ayra, but flying with Saphira felt like a very intimate experience between Dragon and Rider and thinking of anyone accompanying them somehow lessened the experience.

It also gave him the chance to discuss something else that had been bothering him.

 _'What do you make of Helena giving away her fortune?'_

 _'What do I make of it?'_ Saphira repeated and if she were human, Eragon imagined she'd be lifting an eyebrow. _'It seems sensible. If we lose, she won't be able to enjoy it anyway.'_

' _Yes, but I was referring to what she said about not deserving it._ '

 _'I believe what she said was that she hadn't earned it, which is true. Not that I don't think she doesn't deserve it, but earning and deserving are different things.'_

 _'It's the same thing,' he replied sourly._ _'Does that mean you agree with her?'_

 _'This is about more than Helena's gold. This is you asking whether the concept of an inheritance is fair or not. Am I right?'_

 _'I just don't get how she can be so callous about it.'_

A short silence ensued as Saphira waited for him to answer her question _._ _'Yes, I suppose that is what I am asking.'_

 _'Than the answer is no, it is not fair. A human child born into nobility is better off than that of a beggar. It is not fair, but few things are. Is it fair for the deer that I decide to eat it? Off course not, and I don't care. I find you humans' fixation on fairness odd, but I do not think it bad either.'_

 _'It's just that inheritance is one of the oldest human traditions in the world. It was all but considered a sacred right in Carvahall.'_

 _'Keep in mind that in this blood war Helena told us about, she was fighting against wizards who all thought they were better than everyone because of who their parents were. Maybe that has soured her on the subject?'_

That set Eragon thinking. He hadn't connected Helena's dismissal of her own legacy with the conflicts in her past, but it seemed obvious in retrospect.

They left the mountains' dark halls when the sun was only a few hours away from setting, arriving at a small open plain, their shadows making long silhouettes on the grass more than twice their owners lengths. Arya took a long savoring breath from the outside air. Eragon understood; he had done the same not long ago when taking Murtagh outside. Tronjheim was magnificent, but it was also very strange without any wind or sun and the air tasted differently.

"We can rest here," Arya announced. "Tomorrow we can leave early and easily reach the edge of Du Weldenvarden within the third day."

"We should at least make brief stop in Tarnac," Orik chimed in. "There are things that my new kin need to know and see."

"Can't it wait?" It was clear from her tone that Arya already knew and dreaded the answer.

"I'm afraid I must insist."

"Very well," Ayra conceded reluctantly. "But we will stay no longer than two days, if that."

"I know that their training is more important," Orik said calmly. "That is why I can accept their induction in Ingeitum being such a rushed affair."

Seemingly as satisfied as she was going to be, Arya moved a little further away from their group to set up her tent.

"She is acting really strangely," Orik pondered out loud. Eragon would have asked why if it didn't look like Orik would elaborate on his own. "Elves aren't normally like this. They are one of the most patient beings in Alagaësia."

"She knows what's at stake and that time is both limited and valuable," Helena reasoned.

"And she has spent a large time away from her people. Perhaps she is simply eager to be home," Eragon pointed out. Homesickness he understood.

"She has been gone for a long time," Orik agreed, but he didn't sound sure.

Saphira let out an attention seeking growl. Eragon understood and smiled. "I think Saphira and I will go out and enjoy the last rays of sunlight together."

"Best idea I've heard all day," Helena enthused and ran towards Godric. She pointed her finger and levitating what few supplies had been secured to his saddle towards the ground.

"Just make sure that you can find your way back to this spot when it's dark," Orik warned.

"Will do," Eragon assured the dwarf, though he knew that would be more Saphira's job. She could see better in the dark, and her sense of direction was better than his.

After he had removed all but the saddle from Saphira's back he climbed on and found that Godric and Helena were already waiting for them. Saphira's excitement grew further; it had been too long since she had outflow her red counterpart.

No further talk was necessary as both Godric and Saphira fired themselves up into the air. They were rising so rapidly that Eragon had to swallow his spit in order to release the pressure in his ears. He also used a quick _brisingr_ to shield himself from the cold. There were safer ways to warm oneself than with the magical word for 'fire', but Eragon found that any spell he used that included that word became easier for him.

Without talking about, it seemed the dragons had decided to play what Eragon liked to call 'back tag'. Both dragons would try to maneuver themselves so that they were close, above, and behind the other; the perfect space for a dragon to attack another dragon in the air. As the sun was low and red, they couldn't rely on the blinding light to hinder the opponent. There were a lot of clouds to hide in though.

Eragon used magic to make himself more waterproof. The first time Saphira had flown into a cloud, she had to hurry back down before her rider died of hypothermia. Eragon couldn't wait for winter to finally relinquish its hold on the land.

The view was, as always, spectacular. The dying rays of the sun fell on Saphira and Godric's scales, and even when there were no clouds behind them, the shadow of their silhouettes were outlined in orange light in the air. Eragon wished he could take a perfect memory of the sight and preserve it for all eternity.

The difference in skill between the two dragons had closed over time, but Saphira was still the better flyer. A fact that Eragon couldn't help but feel smug about.

The rules changed however when Helena, for the first time in these games, decided to take a more direct role in the contest. A sudden unexpected gusts of wind started to blow Saphira slightly off course and Godric seemed to enjoy a sudden updraft whenever he needed it most. It hadn't taken Saphira and Eragon long to notice what the other rider was doing.

 _'They are cheating!'_ Eragon shared his scandalized observation.

 _'Indeed!'_ Saphira sounded more excited than upset. _'This means I have finally won, if Godric admits to being outclassed without help.'_

That was one way to look at it, Eragon reflected.

 _'And to be fair, in a real fight, there would be no question that Helena would be supporting Godric wherever and whenever she can. In a way, you could say that they have finally stopped holding back.'_

 _'Do you want me to start using magic as well?'_ Eragon offered. He knew that Helena could use her powers more freely than him, but that didn't mean he shouldn't try. That and he could use the practice.

 _'No. I want to see if I can win like this. If it turns out I can't, I might ask for your help.'_

From that moment on, the win rate between the two dragons reversed. Saphira was talented and had an instinctual understanding of the air currents, but those could now change at the 'enemy's' command. It was during this time that Eragon realized that there was a lot more to a dragon's ability to fly than the wind or the wings. It should have been obvious in retrospect, but somehow it wasn't. As a hunter, Eragon had shot more than a few birds out of the sky to carry back to his family in _Carvahall_ , and he knew how light they were. A dragon should be far too heavy to fly. It was when Saphira was stubbornly trying to fly against a current of wind that had been sent against them like a fish swimming up a current and _still move forward_ that it became glaringly obvious that magic had to be involved somehow. Yes, Eragon had seen birds fly against the wind before, but this was ridiculous. That particular feat of strength had been the cause of one of Saphira's very few wins from the moment that Godric and Helena upped their game.

Eragon was both impressed and envious of the speed and precision with which Helena was able to manipulate the wind. That dimmed, however, when the dragons landed and Eragon saw the slitted pupils in Helena's green eyes.

"It was Godric, wasn't it?" He guessed.

"He knows the winds and how they should and can move better than I ever will," Helena shrugged as the shape of her pupils returned to normal. "I had the power, but Godric decided how to use it. He acted through me."

The sun had set bellow the horizon and sky was now a very dark blue and only getting darker. The dragons had landed near a small river. The water flowed fast over several small rocky waterfalls. Both dragons left to give their humans the illusion of privacy. As they were always deeply connected with their partner, true privacy was rare for them. Eragon summoned a blue fire into existence, both for heat and light. Helena did the same with red flame. Together they casted the area in an eerie light of red, blue and purple.

"I am glad I came here," Helena said suddenly as she looked around herself, looking dazed.

"to _Alagaësia_ _you mean,"_ Eragon guessed. _"It is quite beautiful."_

"I suppose," Helena mumbled and Eragon suspected his guess was of the mark.

A second reason soon presented itself and it sent a thrill through him as thought of it. "And you met me here," he said smugly.

"That too," Helena smirked wryly.

 _So not that either._ "Why else are you glad to be here?"

"Godric for one," Helena answered immediately.

"Of course," Eragon agreed. That should have been the most obvious answer.

"And–" Helena tried to continue, but the words seemed to get stuck in her throat. "I don't know. I guess the flying must have been particularly awesome this time."

"I see. . ." They were alone, had no pressing matters to attend to, Helena seemed to be in a contemplative mood, and it was just late enough that they were relaxed instead of tired. Eragon didn't think he would get a better chance than this.

"Helena, do you really think you didn't deserve your inheritance?"

Helena acknowledged his question with 'huh?' and thought it over for a few seconds. "I have never really thought about it much. But it has never meant much to me."

"Isn't it– I don't know – a valuable memento of some kind?"

"I had mementos. My invisibility cloak, for one. And I had pictures. The money. . . " A sigh. "It was never important. I didn't grow up wealthy and I kept my frugal habits for the most part. It wasn't that useful in solving most of my important problems, so why care?"

"So, it was just the money you didn't care for? You don't have anything against inheritance in general."

"You read a lot into my gesture of charity, didn't you?" Helena smiled at him. "I suppose I don't. It is more. . . entitlement that I have a problem with. But maybe. . .? It does seem a little unfair, doesn't it? That some are better off because their parents were rich?"

"Unfair to whom?" Eragon asked rhetorically. "The right of inheritance is as much for, if not more so, for the parent as for the child. A person deserves to have a say in what happens with their wealth after they are gone. It is natural to use that wealth to make sure their kin are taken care off."

"I suppose I can't argue with that," Helena conceded. "But I have seen a lot of people think they are better than anyone else because of whom their parents are. It is a danger."

Eragon had prepared another question to ask and he hoped that his fellow Rider wouldn't be upset at this line of questioning. "Helena, do you think that, perhaps, you are still fighting the last war?"

Black eyebrows rose into her brow and she looked at him with wide surprised eyes. "What brought this on?" A short pause; too short for Eragon to think of an answer before Helena continued. "Only in the broadest of strokes. If you squint a lot. There is still a big immortal evil villain that needs to be defeated."

In the following silence, Eragon had trouble thinking of what had prompted his last question. His answer came in the form of another question. "I think that, maybe, you are still fighting against the ideals that your enemies stood for?"

"I'll never believe that someone is better or worse based on who their parents are and will argue fiercely against anyone who thinks so." She looked at him challengingly. "You don't think so, do you?"

"No," he was quick to answer, taking a step back and raising a calming hand. "But I do think there is some value in looking to where we come from and taking pride in it."

"A slippery slope that."

"Perhaps, but one I believe in. You and I have unwittingly inherited the legacy of a several millennia old order who safeguarded the world for all of that time."

"Is this still about my giving away Rider secrets?" Helena asked, luckily sounding more puzzled than hostile.

"In part," Eragon admitted. "Their traditions kept the world safe for countless generation. I just think that is worth respecting."

"So we shouldn't question?"

"Is that a serious question?" Eragon asked wryly. "Remember who you are talking to." And he was rewarded with a chuckle. "All I am saying is that there is no need to throw it all away and start over from nothing. There is no need to reach for the sky by ourselves when we stand on the shoulders of giants."

Helena looked to be weighing his words in her mind, rubbing the bottom of her lips thoughtfully before grimacing. "Your words ring true, but. . . I am sorry. I spend my teenage years fighting against the outdated traditions of the entitled and the cruel. It has never been my friend."

"Yet we are fighting Galbatorix so we can restore what once was."

"Is that why we are fighting? I thought it was to free Alagaësia from Galbatorix."

"And what do you think they we will do once Alagaësia is free? The old royal line will be restored or a new line will be established. It's how we have always done things and it is how it will be again. Are you okay with that?"

"Do I have a choice," Helena grumbled. "I am not about to enforce my will by force, if that is what you are implying."

"I didn't think you would," he was quick to assured.

"You better not. That doesn't mean I will keep quiet if my opinion is asked."

"Fair enough. Just be prepared when it doesn't go according your wishes. We are our own people."

"Lovely," she bristled, coolly sarcastic. "I don't want to talk about this anymore."

That was probably for the best, Eragon reflected. It was high time to change the subject to something less tense. He looked around himself at the still magically illuminated forest. "The night has an eerie beauty to it."

"It is certainly peaceful," Helena agreed, "and a welcome reprieve."

After a moment, Helena sat herself down on the ground, unconcerned about dirtying the long robes she was wearing. She held a hand into the stream of water that flowing down the rocks. Her hand started to glow softly.

"What are you doing?"

"Just seeing if I can warm the water." Her featured pulled into a concentrated frown. "That it is flowing so fast makes it harder."

Eragon moved himself to the other side of the stream, careful not to slip on the wet rocks. He squatted down on the ground and felt the water a little downstream from where Helena's hand was glowing. Despite the night's cold, the water felt lukewarm and getting warmer, with translucent white vapor slowly rising upwards.

Helena removed her large leather boots and socks and dipped her bare feet in the now warm stream. The contented look on her face convinced Eragon to do the same.

This was the true wonder of magic, Eragon reflected. Not the curses, the flinging of lightning and fire. But the simple freedom of being able to do what would otherwise be impossible. Flying was one such activity and this was another. Here they were, tipping their naked feet in a river in the beginning of March. If they had been two normal humans, their stupidity would have seen them bedridden for days. Nature had always been man's best friend and worst enemy combined, and there was a joy being able to enjoy it now without fear of consequence.

They sat there in comfortable silence. Simply enjoying the feel of warm water beating against their skin and listening to the sounds of the forest. The chirping of crickets were the most prevalent sound along with the rustling of leaves in the wind, but occasionally they heard an owl and even a few wolves howl in the distance. Wolves were yet another used-to-be-dangerous to him. Even if he couldn't call upon a protective dragon, a simple burst of fire would see them running in fear.

Eventually they did start talking. Helena shared some of her experience directly after arriving in Teirm. Eragon already knew most of it, but this time she shared more of her personal feelings and opinions about the events.

"I am surprised you and Helen got along. Joed's wife seemed like the entitled sort, and you hate that."

"I dislike that sort of entitlement, true, but that doesn't mean I hate all who feel it. Nasuada for example felt entitled to her father's position after his death, and she and I get along just fine. It's not their fault they grew up with such values. As to me and Helen. . . she needed someone to talk to and I was desperate for conversation with another human."

"Teirm was the busiest place I had ever been to. With so many people, how could you be starving for conversation."

"You can be surrounded by people, and still feel lonely, but I see your point. I could have gone to the tavern or the market and found plenty willing to talk, and sometimes I did just that, but they were. . ." She looked away, embarrassed.

"They were what?"

Helena bit the corner of lip. "Promise you won't get angry?"

"I promise."

Helena spoke quietly as if imparting some scandalous secret. "They looked and smelled dirty."

Eragon understood why she was worried about him getting upset. All peasants – which he was and still felt like – were less concerned about personal hygiene than the likes of Jeod, Nasuada, or any other that grew up amongst the upper class. Helena was a special case since her world held to a different norm. He himself had only started to bathe more after Helena had joined him and Brom. The new addition to their group had soon started to drop some subtle hints that he should take better care of himself. Eragon, desperate at the time to do anything to please their new female companion, had been quick to comply, especially after Brom complemented him on the new habit.

Eragon couldn't muster any annoyance at her grievance with his own class of people. The way Helena was staring at the ground in obvious shame and embarrassment prevented any such thing. The red light still coming from her hand made her blushing all the more noticeable.

"I know it's unfair of me," Helena excused herself without prompting. "I just can't help it."

"It's alright, I am not upset," Eragon reassured, more amused than anything. The way she was so obviously mortification at her own poshishness was endearing.

Visibly relieved, Helena went back to her earlier point. "There was also the fact that Helen liked to talk more about herself than ask me question about myself. It saved me trying to find excuses not to answer or come up with a believable story."

"What was it again? You fled from a forced marriage in Reavstone, stowing away on ship after you escaped a dungeon?" Eragon asked, still feeling rather amused. "Did you try that on other people too?"

"No, that one was especially for you sweetie," she teased. "Mostly I kept quiet and allowed people to make up their own theories. Theories that I deliberately never corrected. Most people did guess that I was from Surda, so I made an effort to read the basics about that land so I could play the part."

At that point, Saphira informed him that Arya wanted them to return. They did so without complaint, drying their skins with magic. Eragon didn't mind leaving this spot, it was better to cut these moments of peace short than allow them to become boring on their own.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

They prepared to leave at the first sign of dawn the next day. Arya would ride with him on Saphira while Orik would ride with Helena and Godric. The poor dwarf already looked green at the prospect.

"I know it seems daunting, but it is an amazing experience," Helena tried to assure him.

"Barzul! You do not need to coddle me, women. I am not afraid of a little height." Orik snapped back at her, but, contrary to his words, there was more fear in his voice than anger.

"Of course you're not," Helena indulged him, while smiling mischievously. "Why would you ever be afraid of flying. Nothing solid to grab onto for miles in either direction."

Godric continued. _'Looking down and imagining yourself plummeting the immense distance in seconds as the earth grows larger and larger to welcome you back into its embrace.'_

Saphira decided to join in. _'Being carried and shaken by the wind like a leaf. Like an earthquake without end.'_

 _We are all terrible people,_ Eragon concluded and decided to contribute. "And looking up into sky around, you notice endless clouds and stars, swirling around you. The dizziness making your grip on the saddle grow lax as you slowly lose yourself into the endless–"

"Enough!" Orik bellowed in an embarrassingly high pitched voice. He had grabbed his axe and was waving it about threateningly. "I'll gut all of you if you don't shut it!."

They all had a chuckle at the dwarf's expense. Even Arya cracked a smile.

Helena tried to school her features with limited results. "Seriously though, you have nothing to worry about. Even if you fall, which you won't, I could catch you before you reach the ground. You couldn't kill yourself even if you tried."

"Let's just get this over with," Orik said, mostly managing to sound firm and stoic. It would have been more effective if it wasn't for his earlier outburst.

Nobody was calling him out on it, however, and Helena helped the dwarf climb unto Godric.

Unlike Orik, Arya seemed eager to fly. In the periphery of his mind, Eragon was aware of Arya thanking Saphira for the privilege. He wasn't deeply connected with Saphira at the moment, but in these calm moments, he could still get a general feel of her.

After Eragon had seated himself, Arya climbed the rough scales of Saphira's hide as easy as if she were climbing some stairs and sat herself behind him. She placed her hands on his shoulders for extra support.

The saddle wasn't built for two, however, and it took some time for her to safely secure herself. "Often I have dreamed about one day soaring through the air on a dragon; like many of my people I expect."

"Were you hoping that Saphira would choose you when you carried her for all those years?" Eragon asked.

"In the beginning, yes," Arya admitted. "After a few months however, it became obvious that she was searching for someone else. Once I realized that, I simply wanted to make sure we found that someone."

 _'And I am grateful for your efforts,'_ Saphira chimed in. _'There lies great potential within Eragon, though even he doesn't realize it yet.'_

There was some chastisement in Saphira's tone. It was true that Eragon still had trouble believing that out of all the people in Alagaësia, he was most fit to carry this duty and honor. Especially in comparison to someone like Helena, to whom magic seemed as easy as breathing. The battle of Farthen Dûr hadn't done anything to dissuade him of this notion. He hadn't shamed himself, but he hadn't excelled either. He tried not to dwell on it too much, though. Saphira seemed to take his doubting of himself as a personal insult.

But now that Saphira had brought it up, he had no choice but to acknowledge it.

 _'I will realize it as soon as I prove it.'_

 _'My word isn't enough?'_

 _'Not in this Saphira, I am sorry,'_ His mental voice was both fond and sad. _'But I am grateful for it all the same.'_

 _'Then I will wait.'_

And with those words, Saphira took two large leaps over the ground before jumping into the air. As Eragon was surprised to hear the elf behind him suddenly bursting into delighted laughter. It was a beautiful sound, he had to admit.

Soon the trees of the forest were nothing more than green dots like individual strands of a carpet. It wouldn't be a long flight, Eragon knew. Tarnac was less than two days walking from their position, which meant that a dragon could reach it in less than an hour.

"So how angry are you about Trianna?" Eragon asked after a few minutes.

It took a long time for Arya to answer. Eragon was about to ask again when she finally did. "It was anger born of disappointment; I try not to dwell on it. But it is not I that you will need to answer to."

"Queen Islanzadi?" Eragon guessed.

"No." There was a definite hint of amusement in her tone. "You will learn all in good time, don't worry."

With some effort, Eragon managed to restrain himself from asking about this mysterious person. He knew he wouldn't get a straight answer anyway.

"When we reach Tarnag, you have to be careful," Arya warned him suddenly. "Word of our victory over Durza will have reached these dwarves, but they weren't _there_ _._ Not only that, but these dwarves who prefer to live in outdoor cities suffered the most under the Forswarn's depredations."

"So we shouldn't land in the middle of the market without warning?"

"No. Definitely not."

"Have you ever been to Tarnag?"

"It is on the way between Tronjheim and Ellesméra. So yes, I visited often, unfortunately."

"Unfortunately?"

"You will understand once you visited Celbediel, the great cathedral of the dwarven people. At least I hope you will understand."

"More vagueness," Eragon complained before he could stop himself.

Fortunately, Arya didn't seem annoyed. "Just don't accept everything they tell you without question."

Emboldened by the elves willingness to talk, he pressed his luck. "Is there anything else you can tell me about Tarnag?"

"There is not much I can say that you won't see for yourself once we arrive. It used to be the most populous city of the dwarven cities before it was abandoned and most dwarves fled underground. Once word of Morzan's death spread, however, the people returned quickly."

"I thought that Tronjheim needed supplies from the outside if it was to survive. How did last if all the dwarves fled underground?"

"I said that _most_ dwarves fled underground," Arya pointed out, and explained further. "One of their clans in particular, _Dûrgrimst Feldûnost,_ never fled the surface. They risked being hunted by the forsworn to plant crops and tend the herds so their people could survive. To their credit, the dwarven people give them the respect they deserve for their courage and sacrifice. One does not need to swing a sword to be a hero, Eragon. Remember that."

Eragon didn't have much more opportunity to question the elf. The sun was still low on the horizons when they found Tarnag. Tronjheim had inured him to other marvels of engineering since none could ever compete, yet Eragon still found himself enjoying the sight. Several large terraces had been carved out of the mountain's surface, the lowest of which bordered a lake that was as wide as Leona lake, if not as long. The small buildings and streets were built of different colors of rock, giving the city a very lively look. Eragon was reminded of Tierm and how each level of buildings grew taller the deeper you went into the city, allowing defenders to shoot from the rooms without fear of friendly fire. Tarnag could do the same with its terraces and had even better natural defenses. One could only approach the city from two roads that ran close to the lake on either side.

Unless you were on a dragon, of course. In the event of an attack from the air, the dwarves would likely flee into the mountain. Eragon was sure the dwarves had prepared for such an event. If they could make something like Tronjheim, then Eragon didn't doubt they would have at least built some escape tunnels here.

Unlike Tierm, however, Tarnag didn't feel as. . . martial. Perhaps it were the bright colors or perhaps it was the lack of large walls surrounding the city. The only walls were at the uppermost terrace, surrounding what Eragon was sure had to be Celbediel. As impressive as the domed building was, Eragon had grown used to those and the sight of the precious metals adoring its walls. His sight was instead drawn to the large gardens that surrounded it almost like a maze and the fields of grain that belted the cities outer layer that reminded him of home.

It was good to be outside again.

Helena contacted him. _'Orik asks us to land near the lakeshore. It will give the city time to respond to our arrival.'_

They did so. Godric had clearly missed cleaning himself in water, judging by the way he landed with his paws submerged in the lake. Once Helena and Orik dismounted – the dwarf complaining about getting wet – Godric decided to go deeper into the lake.

"I am surprised he is willing to leave you alone at this time," Eragon said once Helena and Orik got close enough.

"Orik convinced him it would be better to warn everyone first. Godric apparently bears a remarkable resemblance to Morzan's dragon who hunted them and drove them from their homes."

"Ah," was all Eragon had to say to that.

"He also really likes to eat fish, and this is his chance to go hunting for them."

 _'I can't say I have ever tried them. They seem too small to be filling and are faster in the water than I am. Seems like too much trouble for little gain,'_ Saphira commented, looking over the lake and the ripples Godric was causing on its surface with his diving.  
 _  
_"He used to be able to sate himself with fish for a while when he was small, but now I think he sees them more like candy than an actual meal."

They could already see their welcoming party approaching from the city. A group of dwarves in small enough numbers to be unthreatening. They were riding an animal that Eragon had never seen before; some strange mix between a horse and a goat with horns that could make a Kull envious and legs that were unusually short for a such large beasts. Eragon doubted they could run very fast with those.

It took the mounted dwarves long enough to travel the distance that Orik had time to explain that the strange beasts were called Feldûnost, one of five animals unique to the Beor Mountains and the beast the Feldûnost. Orik briefly described the other unique animals that roamed the mountain valley, like giant wolves and bears. Eragon wasn't so sure anymore that he could have protected himself from the wolves that were howling last night with a simple fire spell.

One of the mounted dwarfs separated from the rest and rode out to meet them. Eragon was impressed by the Feldûnost's lack of cowering in the face of Saphira; only staring at the apex predator with an unblinking gaze. Even Snowfire had needed time to get used to her.

 _'More foolishness than courage if you ask me,'_ Saphira scoffed within his mind, obviously irritated at the lack of fear that was coming from the domesticated animals.

Orik and the new arrival exchanged what Eragon assumed were greetings. Since they spoke dwarvish, he understood nothing of it. _I really should learn that language,_ he decided. According to Helena, the language of the dwarves sounded similar to another language from her homeland called 'German'. He tried to pay more attention to the conversation when he heard his and Helena's name being dropped. Despite not knowing the words, the mention of the _Ingeitum_ _clan_ alongside their names allowed Eragon to guess what they were talking about.

Considering the other dwarf's frown, he wasn't happy with the arrangement. A string of more dwarvish words followed. By watching Orik's stubborn expression and the messenger's worried one, Eragon once again guessed at the general meaning of the conversation.

 _'I hope accepting Hrothgar's offer won't create more problems than it prevents,'_ Eragon shared his worry with Saphira.

 _'Then make sure we don't stay here longer than necessary,'_ Saphira advice.

That was probably a good idea, and what they had planned beforehand, but Eragon was disappointed he wouldn't be able to explore this new location. He suspected that Tronjheim wasn't a good representation of what the dwarven people were like. Tarnag might be.

It seemed that Orik and the messenger had finally finished their discussion. The mounted dwarf now turned to address the rest of their party in the common tongue. As polite and formal as possible, the dwarf - Thorv, son of Brokk – welcomed them into the city on behalf of its leaders; Ûndin and Gannel.

"I have been made aware of your unique situation," Thorv said once they had all formally accepted the offer of hospitality. "And must ask that you do not advertise your membership of _Dûrgrimst Ingeitum."_

 _"That is not something that could, or indeed should, be hidden,"_ Orik grumbled.

"There are. . . elements within Tarnag that would not accept such a– unprecedented event. Some would challenge its legality," Thorv offered delicately.

"Then we will meet such challenges head on," Orik declared boldly.

 _Well that just wouldn't do._ "We did not come here to start a fight," Eragon objected. "I will defend myself from any challenge, but I see no reason why we should provoke one if it can so easily be avoided."

"I agree," Helena said, removing the necklace that Orik had given her yesterday.

"I don't like this," Orik groused. "They should see you as who you are now, one of us."

 _If only it were so easy my friend._ "Your opinion and that of Hrothgar is the one that matters here. Regardless of what others think or know, we are brothers now." Saying the words now somehow made it more real than his oath back in Tronjheim. "I don't need to prove that to anyone else."

"Aye," Orik sighed, but he couldn't hide the smile under his beard. "Maybe you have a point. But we must inform Ûndin and Gannel. It would be grave insult to keep this from them."

"Excellent," Thorv nodded in approval.

 _'That was well done, little one,'_ Saphira complemented.

"Before we continue there is one other matter," Helena interjected delicately, tilting her head so she looked over the lake. On cue, Godric jumped out of the water in all his scary red scaled glory. Even from over twenty yards away, Eragon still felt a few drops of water landing on his skin from to splash he made. The Feldûnosts that the dwarves were riding all jerked in dismay, but their riders managed to calm them remarkably quickly.

Godric landed on Helena's side, sending a shock through the earths as dragons always did when landing. Godric's rider casually pointed to him as if he hadn't just deliberately made a dramatic entrance. "Will this be a problem?"

 _'Show offs, the both of them,'_ Saphira huffed. Eragon managed to refrain from snorting in amusement at his dragon's hypocrisy.

"I hope it won't be, Rider, but our people have long memories," Thorv said, sounding apologetic about it.

"They do realize that Godric has never done anything to them right? They just look similar. Would they also hate everyone that has heterochromia?"

Heterochromia, Eragon knew from the legends surrounding Morzan, was a word that referred to a person having two different eye colors like Morzan was reputed to have had.

"Probably yes; it is considered a bad omen," Throv said dryly.

By her pinched expression, it was obvious that Helena was trying very hard to not to say anything about just how stupid she thought they were being.

"You will be fine," Thorv tried to reassure her. "Even if some won't be pleased, none will be fool enough to try anything. If they do, they will have to answer to us."

 _'And me,'_ Godric's voice rumbled through all their minds, the threat in it obvious.

Eragon felt exasperated by the whole situation. They were trying to stay out of trouble!

 _'True though that may be, I agree with Godric in this. If they are both hateful and fool enough to attack us they only have themselves to blame,'_ Saphira commented.

Eragon didn't argue with that. He just hoped it wouldn't come to that.

Remembering how well their first introduction to the people of Tronjheim went, Eragon decided he wanted to ride into Tarnag on top of Saphira. In the small chance that something went wrong, it would make it easier to get away. He was glad that Helena did the same with Godric. The red dragon had already proven once that he was willing to flee if it meant keeping his rider safe. Granted, in this instance his concern was for the people of Tarnag and not Helena or her dragon.

Spirits, was this what their life would be like from now on? Always on their guard, never feeling completely safe? For a short moment he could understand why he might one day leave Alagaësia as Angela predicted. An image of just taking Helena and leave all this trouble to live in peace somewhere else entered his mind, but he dismissed it as soon as it appeared. It was a pleasant thought, but as Brom said, Galbatorix would find them eventually. Besides, Alagaësia was home.

Thankfully, for once it seemed their paranoia was unfounded. While some dwarves they passed on their march through the streets of Tarnag seemed nervous, most bowed respectfully. Or at least politely ignored them. The children they passed gaped at them and pulled at their mother's skirts, speaking rapidly in dwarvish. Soon Eragon's trepidation of possible trouble evaporated and he found himself once again regretting that he wouldn't have the chance to go exploring.

His expectation that Tarnag would give him a better feel for the dwarven people had been correct. Tronjheim had been as much if not more a work of art as it had been a city. It was how the dwarves wanted to be seen, but Tarnag showed what they really were.

Tarnag wasn't all that different from Teirm or Dras-Leona, not counting the outer slums. It surprised him how similar it all was, but in hindsight he shouldn't have been. Both humans and dwarves worked towards optimization, if only so they didn't have to do more work than they had too. So it was natural that they arrived at the same conclusions. There were only a few noticeable differences. The most obvious one was the size of everything. Tronjheim had been built as if the dwarves were compensating for something. The buildings of Tarnac on the other hand were built to the size of its inhabitants, almost half as short as their human equivalent. It made Eragon feel distinctly out of place like he hadn't been in Tronjheim.

The second difference was that Tarnac felt a lot more. . . healthy than even Teirm did, which was the best human city Eragon could think of. The streets were better kept and the air smelled less like refuse. There was more space dedicated to works of art. Even the most humble of abodes had at least a few carvings of something or other, or a small sculpture near their doorstep. It gave the impression of a people who had more time to devote to leisure, rather than pure survival.

It reassured Eragon to see such prosperity in the lands outside of Galbatorix's control. It hinted that Murtagh had been wrong when he declared the Varden's war against Galbatorix meaningless and that nothing would really change even if they were successful.

 _'We cannot be sure that Galbatorix is the reason for Teirm's limitations in comparison to Tarnag.'_ It was clear that Saphira made argument only with great reluctance.

 _'Even if that is so, this still gives me hope for my own people.'_ Perhaps when this was done he could return here and learn what Tarnag and the dwarves were doing better than the humans?

Thorv and his other mounted dwarves herded them deeper and higher up into the city. Eragon was glad he was sitting on Saphira's back; he didn't relish climbing that high a distance on his feet. Arya was the only one on foot. She had politely refused the offer of a Feldûnost mount. Of course she didn't show a hint of tiredness; Eragon had stopped being surprised at the elf's unnatural fitness after the battle of Farthen Dûr.

They arrived at a grand walled courtyard filled with three large empty banquet tables. Eragon suspected that whomever was in charge had chosen to meet them in a courtyard since few of the buildings – save Celebediel – looked large enough to comfortably hold the humans and elf, let alone dragons.

Standing in the center of the group, obviously waiting for their arrival, stood dozens of dwarves. Two of them stood slightly in front of the rest and looked more important than their fellows. One was a grey-beard in a wolvesskin so large it draped over the floor and the other was a younger man with sharp hooded eyes and a warriors build. Eragon only took a moment to guess at their identity and it was proven correct the next moment when the grey-beard stepped forward.

He looked genuinely pleased to see them. "I, Ûndin son of Derûnd and clan chief, welcome you to Tarnag, home of Dûrgrimst Ragni Hefthyn. We have heard only good things said about you, Helena Spell-master, Arya Shadeslayer, and Eragon the Second." Eragon blinked at his own moniker. "Your achievements in Farthen dûr are known and we are pleased to see you here."

The other more youthful dwarf's eyebrows seemed to twitch and his eyes shot in Arya's direction before settling back on the Riders. Eragon wanted to look at his companions to see if something was wrong, but he was too tense and too worried about being rude to look away from his hosts.

"And I am Gannel, son of Orm Blood-ax and clan chief of Dûrgrimst Quan." The younger dwarf said. Young being relative as he still looked older than Orik.

"I am glad to be here, clan chief," Helena smiled. "I would like to introduce you to my bonded, Godric." The red dragon growled in greeting. Eragon hoped that the dwarves hadn't spent enough time around dragon's to realize that this was a 'dismissive' growl instead of an acknowledging one.

Still, Eragon shared Helena's wish that their dragons not be ignored and was happy to play along. "We are both honored to be your guests. This is Saphira, I am her human."

That earned him a short snicker from Helena and a chuckle from most of the others. Saphira moved her head next to his body in greeting.

"Of course," Gannel smiled in good humor. "They are magnificent creatures."

Eragon didn't like the wording but didn't say anything. He almost wished Gannel had used 'beasts' instead of 'creatures', since it would have given him a chance to object. As it was, 'creature' was just ambiguous enough to refer to anything, even though he doubted Gannel saw them as being as intelligent as people.

 _'As intelligent as people? I do believe I am insulted.'_ Saphira commented drolly, but Eragon knew she was pleased at his annoyance on her behalf.

Orik stepped forward and greeted Ûndin with a surprisingly familiar handshake. "I have a missive from Hrothgar." He produced a sealed scroll from his sleeves and presented it.

Ûndin's eyes scanned over the paper, his face betraying no emotion, before giving the letter to Gannel to read.

"Interesting," Gannel mused, eyes still on the paper.

"And potentially dangerous," Ûndin cautioned his fellow dwarf before turning to his quests. "What do you know of Az Sweldn rak Anhûin."

"Never heard of it," Helena said. She looked at Eragon and he shook his head.

"Not it, them. And it is a sad thing that you have never heard the name. They were once one of our oldest and richest clans. Their wealth came from their association and trade with humans and elves, including the Riders. They were staunch allies of the Riders. If a human knew of any clan, it was this one, though they went by a different name then."

"What happened?" Eragon asked.

"When Galbatorix started his war, they threw their support behind Vrael, both in wealth and manpower. When Galbatorix killed Vrael on top of Utgard mountain, the forsworn were sent to hunt down any of his remaining supporters. Most of the soldiers that Vrael had been able to rally to his cause were slaughtered. Az Sweldn rak Anhûin lived on the western side of the Beor Mountains, close to the human settlements, and so they were easy to find. When the dust settled, only a handful of them were left. Anhûin, the wife of the previous Grimstborith, who had lost both her husband and all her children to the fighting, was driven mad by grief. She blamed both Galbatorix and Vrael in equal measure. She soon died of grief and her guards swore revenge, taking the name Az Sweldn rak Anhûin – the tears of Anhûin – to remind themselves of their purpose.

"Why would they blame Vrael?" Helena asked incredulously. "Shouldn't they want to help us against Gablatorix? He is responsible."

"They question Vrael's leadership, and blame their loss on his incompetence. I don't know if you are aware of this, but he actually defeated Galbatorix when they first fought in Doru Araeba, home of the Riders. Yet for some reason, whether through mercy or weakness, Vrael couldn't bring himself to slay Gablatorix. They hate Galbatorix, make no mistake, but they see Vrael's hesitance on that crucial moment as an insult to all those who died fighting against the oath-breaker and his minions."

Eragon was glad Murtagh wasn't here to hear this. The young rider could imagine Murtagh scoffing in cynical amusement at Vrael's weakness and the very concept of showing mercy to one's enemies.

"But aren't we trying to avenge them?" Helena wondered.

"You didn't so much as know they existed until a few minutes ago," Ûndin reminded her. "Your actions may avenge them, but you are not doing it _for_ them."

"We may now," Eragon said. "Whatever their feelings now, we, the riders, own them a debt for past service and sacrifice. Is there any way we would prove ourselves to them."

"I like to think it isn't impossible, but it would take years. . . and perhaps a different Grimstborg to take over that clan. For now, it is best if you avoid provoking them by minimizing contact. They don't have the resources anymore to really help us, even if they were willing."

Eragon didn't like it, but he also couldn't disagree. They had more important things to do. He wouldn't forget though.

"Above all else, they can't learn of your induction in _Dûrgrimst Ingeitum_. They wouldn't see as being earned by your achievements, but as Hrothgar showering you with undeserved honors and rewards so he can court your support."

 _Which might not be that far from the_ _truth_ _._ "I doubt we can keep it a secret forever."

"And it shouldn't be a secret for long," Orik said sharply. "It is something to be proud of. I _know_ they will do us proud."

"But let us wait until you and your group have entered _Ellesméra_ before we announce it. It will give tempers time to cool down."

"Or they would act out their attacks with more cunning and care," Arya pointed out. "There are advantages in calling out one's enemies. Few would dare associate with them if they openly set themselves against the last hope for Alagaësia."

"If there is a way to avoid a fight, we will take it," Eragon asserted. "They were friends to the Riders once, and their current animosity is partly our responsibility. Perhaps we can make amends somehow, once we have the time."

By the odd way Helena looked at him with a raised eyebrow it was clear that she was skeptical about his reasoning. But after a moment she hummed thoughtfully. "I suppose if we can save them from themselves, we should."

Ûndin grunted. "Well, whatever you decide, it is best you leave tomorrow evening or the morning after that."

Eragon opened his mouth, to answer but someone beat him to it.

"We would not intrude upon your hospitality any longer than necessary," Arya answered for them with an empty smile.

"You are not intruding," Ûndin said sharply. "If circumstances were different. . ." he shook his head. "It's pointless to dwell. I hope you will return once the war is over so we may properly show you the wonders of Tarnag."

"I would love that," Eragon said before Arya had a chance. Eragon hoped she was just really eager to return home and didn't really dislike this place that much.

Gannel took the word. "Then tomorrow I will take you to Celbediel to teach you as much of our history and customs as I can in a single day. It won't be enough, but it will have to do."

"Why not just start today?" Helena wondered. "It is not like we have anything better to do."

Ûndin bellowed a laugh. "Because today we celebrate and give you a proper welcome. You are heroes after all."

"Great," Helena breathed out, smiling. "I wish I could have attended the one back in Tronjheim."

"How formal of an affair will this be?" Arya asked.

"Many important citizens are eager to meet you."

Helena's smile dropped like a stone.

"Won't Az Sweldn rak Anhûin use this as an opportunity to get the measure of the Riders?" Arya asked.

"They won't be able to issue any challenge when they are guests under my invitation. They will have naught but insults as their weapons. So long as you do no more than greet any of their members with a polite smile, I doubt anything will go amiss. If we don't introduce you under controlled conditions, Az Sweldn rak Anhûin might seek you out for themselves. You can't avoid them entirely as they have no doubt heard of your arrival."

 _'And here I thought we would be able to visit a city without you running the risk of getting stabbed,'_ Saphira murmured within Eragon's mind. _'How silly of me.'_

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 _This really isn't that bad,_ Eragon reflected as he shook hands and exchanged pleasantries with yet another merchant dwarf who wanted to make sure that Eragon knew just how much his supplies and wealth had supported the Varden over the years. Granted, it wasn't fun exactly, but he had expected worse from Helena's reaction. Some of it was even interesting. It gave him a better idea of how the Varden had survived without lands of their own and a better appreciation of how much they owned the dwarven people for sheltering them all these years.

And Ûndin didn't just throw him to the wolves without help, the dwarven clan leader always made sure he was nearby in case Eragon encountered a situation he couldn't handle.

The food was magnificent, and if the parade of well-wishers and sycophants became too tiresome he was allowed to excuse himself and retreat to the dining table and talk to Helena or Orik. He had only tried to talk to Arya once this evening and she didn't drop the obviously fake smile she had been wearing since the party started, even for him. She had already managed to disappear from the festivities, somehow, though Eragon had been told it was rude for a guest to leave to early.

Seeing that Helena was currently seated at the corner of the table, absently poking a salad and looking a little lonely, he decided to join her. Ûndin, through some social convention that Eragon didn't understand, had made sure that only the guests were allowed within four seats of that spot on the table. Excepting Gannel and Ûndin themselves, of course.

"Are you alright?" he asked as he sat himself next to her. The smell of the giant half-eaten roasted boar assaulted his senses as soon as he came within three yards of it. Eragon found himself wishing that he hadn't already stuffed himself so that he could do it again.

"I'm fine. Just talking to Godric," her expression brightened slightly at his company, though she still looked a little forlorn. Godric and Saphira weren't at the party proper, but they were resting only two streets away and could arrive in seconds if there was trouble.

"Anything in particular?"

She smiled wryly "Talking was perhaps giving it too much credit. I was complaining and he is listening patiently, and occasionally offering to set fire to everything and just spirit me away so we can continue on our journey."

"It's not that bad," he argued. "I don't think I have ever tasted something as delicious as this."

That was only partly true. This was undoubtedly the best food he had ever eaten, but noting could compare to a first decent meal after a winter of going hungry.

"It's not bad," she admitted without much enthusiasm, and Eragon was again reminded that she had lived an incredibly wealthy lifestyle by his standards. "Just ignore me, I don't want to spoil your evening. It is good that you are capable of enjoying this; one of us should."

"What exactly is wrong with this? I get that they aren't friends, but they aren't malicious either. A lot of these dwarves have done a lot of good for the Varden's cause. The least we can do is hear them out."

A sigh. "I guess I am just being childish."

"I doubt that," Eragon said "And you still haven't told me why."

"We are on display again, and I don't like that. It reminds me of politics."

"And what is wrong with that?" Gannel asked from across the table. He had somehow joined them at the table across from the riders without noticing.

"Are you asking me why I don't like politicking?" Helena asked the clan chief.

Gannel nodded.

"I know what needs to be done, right from wrong, good and evil," Helena features contorted into a disgusted expression. "Why don't they? Do they expect a reward for doing what they should have done in the first place? I know that everyone tends to look after themselves and theirs fist, I'd be lying if I said I didn't occasionally do the same. But it's all just so frustrating."

"I suppose that's understandable," Gannel nodded. "You don't have to like it, I know I don't, but I hope you see that the alternative is worse."

"And what's that?" Eragon inserted himself into the conversation.

"Tyranny. As frustrating as other people are, with their own pesky problems that are of course less important than our own bigger picture, it is a willingness to listen to them, nay, being _forced_ to listen to them, that separates tyrants from politicians."

"Are those really the only options," Helena groaned, rubbing her forehead tiredly.

"Of course not," Gannel chuckled. "You could also become neither, but then you won't be able to change anything. Tell me, when you look at the world, are you happy with it? Or do you think things could be better? If you think it can, and want to make it so, you better get used to all this," he mimicked Helena's own disgusted expression from before. "politicking."

"I doubt that is how we will defeat Galbatorix."

"It is why there even is a struggle against Galbatorix in the first place," Gannel retorted.

"Yea, but in the end it will still come down to him versus the four of us."

"Sadly, yes." Gannel turned his gaze on Eragon. "And what of you, Eragon, do you share Spell-master's view?"

Eragon was immediately put on the back food. "I, ehm. .. Well talking to these people is no great hardship, if that is what you are asking?"

"I am glad to hear," Gannel smiled. "But I was talking more broadly; you were listening, weren't you?"

"I don't know. I know I would prefer to leave these matters to likes of Nasuada. I trust them more with big decisions than I would myself."

"A stance that possess more wisdom and courage than it implies." He turned back to Helena. "Think on it girl. This war won't last forever." He left their table.

Helena turned a narrow-eyed gaze on him. "This is ridiculous! This has to be the fourth time since I met the Varden that someone implies that I am just two steps away from wanting to take over the world."

"They just don't know you very well," he tried to reassure her.

Helena wasn't listening however and continued. "As if my willingness to speak my mind is the same as Galbatorix's ambitions of world domination. I may have called Murtagh out on his bullshit, but I never took the choice away from him."

Helena needed to come up for breath and Eragon decided it was best to just nod and let her rant.

"I am helping them out of the goodness of my heart, so why do they all feel the need to lecture me on everything. Why can't they just be glad I am on their side and leave it at that."

"They are afraid what you will do afterwards." A pause. "For that matter, what you do after all this?"

"Focus on getting word to my friends back home, if I haven't done it by then."

"And after that?"

Helena didn't have a ready answer and after a few seconds, gave a tiny shrug. "I haven't given it much thought. We have mostly spent the last month going from one crisis to the next."

Eragon knew what he hoped she would do after the war was over but knew that it was premature to mention. "Anyway, I am sure you will prove all your detractors wrong." He stood up and offered her a hand. "Shall we return to the celebrations?"

Not bothering to hide her smile, she grabbed his hand. Eragon didn't let go, even when it became clear that she would follow of her own volition.

Ûndin saw them, of course, and introduced a group of dwarven hunters to them. They weren't wealthy like most of guests here, but were well-regarded none the less. Seeing that these dwarves shared a profession with him, Eragon was actually able to talk instead of simply listen. Helena didn't open her mouth after giving her name, and Eragon hoped they weren't boring her. He knew she hadn't been able to contribute much to his and Murtagh's discussions on the subject while they were traveling to Gil'ead.

As in with most of the chats of the evening, Ûndin was the one who had to cut it short in order to make sure no one group was able to monopolies their time.

"You're doing great, son," the elder dwarf complemented him. "You're not what they expected."

"What were they expecting?" Eragon asked.

"Someone more aloof, and not someone that actually listened to what they had to say."

"Not hard to beat your expectations then."

"They expect what they know. Don't sell yourself short. Few can pull of humble without also showing weakness or uncertainty like you can."

 _Humility. . ._ Eragon knew that it wasn't meant as a backhanded compliment but it felt like one.

Helena made a 'humming' noise to draw attention to herself.

"You are not doing badly," Ûndin told her cautiously. "But you would rather be somewhere else and it shows."

Helena looked briefly at Eragon before answering Ûndin in a strained voice. "I'll try to do better."

"Just one more hour and you will be able to retire to your quarters, one of the few build for your human size," Ûndin encourage her, "though I am sad to see a celebration held in your honor burden you so."

Helena looked pained. "And now I feel guilty. Look, the party is lovely and the fault lies solely with me. This just isn't my thing."

Ûndin nodded and Helena continued speaking, opening the palms of her hands in an imploring gesture. "I can't really relax because I am afraid I will say the wrong thing, and I don't want to interact because I don't want them to know how ill at ease I am. Really, I am honored by all the effort you're going through."

Ûndin raised a calming hand. "Relax, I am not offended." He reached up to put a hand on her shoulder and smiled encouragingly. "Just try your best for the short time remaining, and remember." The dwarf gave Eragon a sly look, "you are not alone." And with those words, the clan chief left them, though as always, he stayed nearby.

And for a not-unpleasant fifteen minutes Eragon introduced Helena to a few of the people he had met this evening. Once again Eragon wondered why Helena found this so difficult. All you had to do was stand there and allow these dwarves to talk about themselves; something they all loved to do.

Eragon had just been listening to the dwarven equivalent of a town mayor of a small settlement to the west of Tarnag when the constant murmur of voices fell silent. The chirping of crickets and the rustling of leaves in the wind rung in his ears as his senses suddenly came alert for whatever caused the disturbance.

Eragon followed the gazes of the guests to three dwarves with purple veils, the symbol of the clan that had sworn vengeance on the Riders, so Ûndin had told them beforehand. All eyes were on them and the Riders, and Eragon found the anxiety that had slowly ebbed away as the night wore on return with a vengeance. Az Sweldn rak Anhûin had decided to show up.

Ûndin didn't move from his spot, making it clear that the Riders had to deal with this themselves for the time being. Eragon felt Saphira paying attention to his mind and the situation, ready to literally crash the party if anyone threated to do him bodily harm.

One of the three veiled dwarves stepped in front of the others to, hopefully, greet and not attack them. "Vralst lif Rikst rak bolgend," he said.

While Eragon noticed that nearly all dwarves spoke their own language when talking to each other, they all made an effort to speak the common tongue when speaking to him, or near him.

"We are pleased to meet you," Eragon returned cautiously, guessing and hoping that the dwarves had spoken a simple greeting.

The veils they wore were just translucent enough to see the sneers on their faces.. ""Jok etas kythum dur gastram, etas dur."

It was obvious that they wanted to draw attention to fact that he couldn't speak their language.

"If you do not know our language, I am sure that we can find a translator," Helena suggested innocently, drawing a chortle of laughter from the onlookers.

Eragon found himself smiling despite himself. Despite not wanting to antagonize these dwarves, neither he nor Helena were good at letting insults and challenges go.

The leading veiled dwarf hissed. "I am Grimstborith Vêrmund, of Az Sweldn rak Anhûin. Do you know who we are?"

Eragon had previously thought what he would say in this exact scenario and was ready. "You were once of our closest allies, before most of you died due to our own failings."

His words sent a save of whispered conversation through the porch, and even seemed to startle Vêrmund. It took him a long time to respond, long enough for the whispers to die down again.

"Then you must also know why we are not as elated to see you as Ûndin and these," he sneered, "sycophants."

Eragon looked towards the mentioned clan chief and found his face contorted in outrage.

 _'I suspect that the best way to deal with these dwarves is allow them to hang themselves with their careless insults,'_ Saphira remarked.

Eragon ignored her. "They are simply glad they do not need to face Galbatorix alone."

Vêrmund scoffed. "I question the necessity of your cooperation with us. Having Riders on our side didn't help the last time. Why would two rookies do better where your predecessors have failed. It wasn't even you that defeated Durza, was it? It was the elven lady."

Eragon couldn't think of a reply. Vêrmund raised several points that Eragon had asked himself numerous times. What hope did they– or at least _he_ have where an order of more experienced Riders failed?

"By all reports, they were instrumental in the battle of Tronjheim," Ûndin came to his rescue.

 _The dragons were instrumental, as was Helena. All I did was stall Durza for a few seconds._

Vêrmund wasn't finished. "As I see it, our own ancestors rose up to defend us in our time of greatest need, after the Riders tried and failed."

 _'They clearly want a fight. Why exactly can't we give them one again?'_ Saphira sounded annoyed.

 _'We're busy,'_ Eragon returned tersely, and returned to the problem in front of him. "I understand why you can't have any faith in us after what happened, but we will try to prove you wrong and honor your kin who fell in our defense."

Vêrmund was momentary speechless. Eragon could see his mouth hanging open through the thin veil, before he also saw Vêrmund's eyes narrowed with a calculating glint. "You say you owe us much, to your credit I have to admit. Would you be willing to act on that debt?"

 _'It's a trap!'_ Saphira yelled in his mind and Eragon frowned. He wasn't a complete idiot.

"Within reason, of course," He replied cautiously.

Vêrmund grunted dismissively. "And what does your woman have to say about all this?"

Eragon turned and found Helena frowning at the situation. She looked at him with an unreadable expression before turning to Vêrmund. "I have nothing to say." She again shot him a brief glance that seemed to say, 'we will talk about this later.'

"I rather doubt that." Eragon saw Vêrmund smiling nastily under his veil. He looked back to Eragon and this time he sounded almost respectful. "For what it's worth, I hope you succeed in killing Galbatorix."

 _'And that we die in the attempt, no doubt,'_ Saphira commented again, but she sounded less tense now that the conversation appeared to be over.

Indeed, Vêrmund and his two hanger-ons turned on their heels and left as sudden as they had come.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"He's a dick," Helena said to him bluntly once they were safely back in their chambers.

Eragon's features contorted at the uncharacteristic vulgarity. "Crude, but not untrue."

"Why are bending over backwards for that slimy little man. I feel like we just agreed to apprentice ourselves to the twins as they once suggested."

"Like I said, we owe them a debt."

"Why?"

The questioned startled him due to the shear obviousness of the answer. "Oh, I don't know," Eragon began sarcastically. "Perhaps it's because nearly all of them died trying to save the Riders – which we are in case you had forgotten – from total annellation?"

"Alright, first of all, the fact these dwarves are alive right now means that they weren't among those trying to help the Riders."

Eragon couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You hold them being alive against them?"

"No, I don't," she snapped. "but it means that the ones who are left are no more or less brave than every other dwarf who stayed behind. Do we owe all of them a debt for doing nothing?"

That at least made an ounce of sense, but it was still more callous than he had come to expect from her. "Their loved ones died to protect us," he tried.

To Eragon's immense relief, Helena deflated a little. "Alright, I'll give you that one." The admission made Eragon halt his own rising emotions.

Unfortunately, Helena wasn't done. "But I have another issue."

Eragon took a breath and braced himself. "What is it?"

She shook her head slowly, "They never tried to save us. They tried to help this Vrael person, and I am not he. Whatever debts the Riders of old still have are no concern of mine."

 _What?_ "What about the debt you owe the Riders? Our bonded dragons, all we have become, we owe to them."

"I am who I am. Becoming a Rider hasn't changed my personality that much. And who I truly have to thank for Godric is still a mystery. And _you_ have Arya to thank for Saphira; Arya, Brom, and Jeod. Not counting Brom, all the Riders of old died nearly a century before we were born. If anything, we now have to clean up their mess."

"You really blame the riders for that?" he accused.

"Well, ehmm, ok, maybe not," she took a metaphorical steps back. "But I don't see why I owe them anything either."

"You feel no connection to the Riders at all do you?" Eragon more realized than asked.

"The old order? Not particularly. They are gone, and we have to act how we see fit, not how the old guard did things. And I don't see why I should help someone like Vêrmund."

"You said you wanted to save them," he reminded her.

Helena lifted her gaze in an exasperated movement. "I didn't realize how easy they would be to dislike. They dishonor the ones who did die for the Riders by their actions."

Eragon felt himself growing tired. "We can prevent needless bloodshed."

"We can do that well enough by staying far away from them, which was our plan from the beginning, wasn't it?"

Eragon took a deep breath that seemed to have trouble going through a forming lump in his throat. "It would just make me feel a lot better, okay?"

"Now that is a reason I can get behind," she said, giving him a concerned look. "Are you ok?"

"Yea, I'm fine," waving her off. "It's been a long night."

"That it has," she turned towards her assigned bedchamber, but paused midturn, looking back at him. "Eragon. We're good, right?"

"Yes, of course we are." He turned and went to his own room with a heavy heart.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Eragon was walking over smooth polished stone of gold and black, surrounding by a grey fog that made it impossible to see more than four feet in any direction. He was also dreaming and knew it. It was like his dreams about Arya when she was held prisoner, it was all too lucid to be a true dream.

The fog seemed to be slightly less in a single direction, which was why he was walking that way. His footsteps resounded with a clear echo, making him suspect that he was inside of a large room of some sort. He felt nervous about what he might find, but not afraid. It was doubtful anything could hurt him in his own dreams.

A silhouette appeared in the distance. Considering its small stature, Eragon suspected a woman, and even started to get an idea about her identity. He had been arguing with her just recently after all.

The shadow in the mist was also moving erratically with small trembling motions, making feel like something was wrong.

As soon as he was close enough to see her through the mist, it parted entirely, leaving a small clearing around them with perfect visibility.

Eragon saw her and found himself frozen in horror.

Helena's hands were clutching a pulling at her hair. Tears were streaming down her face. Wild eyes were darting about in a panic, looking for escape for a problem that he didn't know but understood was beyond her somehow. Her mouth was open wide into a soundless wail of despair.

Then it got worse.

For a small moment, the trembling of Helena's body stopped, leaving her standing still as a statue. Her red rimmed eyes now looked dazed, staring at nothing.

Then a sudden explosion of power came from her body and knocked Eragon to the ground. Helena body grew stiff with her arms and head jerked backwards, fingers stretched apart, the tips of her shoes floating five inches above the ground.

That was also the moment she started screaming.

That finally brought home the fact that he needed to stop staring and _do something!_ Eragon tried to crawl towards her but the waves of power coming from Helena hadn't stopped and made every inch a struggle like he was facing a powerful wind.

An angry red light started to glow from Helena's body and the waves of power increased in intensity, stopping whatever progress Eragon was making in reaching her. Now all he could do was prevent himself from being blown away.

Eragon found himself unable to breath. Like standing too close to roaring flame, that strange sense that allowed people to sense the pain of others called empathy threatened to overwhelm his mind due to the shear amount of pain he was knew Helena to be in. This pain went beyond the physical, like having your very soul flayed from your body.

Cracks started to appear on her skin, the angry red light shining through like rays of the sun through a small opening in a dark room. The mist had completely dissipated, but Eragon couldn't draw his gaze away from the horror in front of him to take it all in.

Eragon realized, with all the certainty of dreams, that this nightmare would only end once Helena was gone.

The tortured scream slowly lowered in volume, though it wasn't any less horrifying to listen to. Eragon suspected she must have partly destroyed her vocal cords by that point.

The cracks on her skin continued to spread until it covered her entire body, somehow managing to shine through her clothes. In one last explosion of hot light that forced Eragon to look away it was over. Where Helena had just been floating now lay a corpse that existed out of nothing but scar tissue. The corpse slowly moved upright and stared at him with familiar yet lifeless green eyes. . . and Eragon again heard screaming, though this time it came from his mouth.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Eragon returned to the physical world to the feeling of being shaken. When he opened his eyes, he saw the object of his fears above him, dressed in light sky-blue nightgown, alive and well. When Helena noticed that he was awake, she stopped shaking him and looked at him with concern. "Saphira woke me when she noticed something was wrong and couldn't wake you. I found you trashing in your–"

Eragon didn't allow her to finish and pulled her down into an embrace, burying her head into the crook of his neck.

Eragon kept Helena there for several long seconds with one arm wrapped around her back and the other holding the back of her head, simply reassuring himself that she was there and nothing was wrong with her. Saphira also did his best to sooth whatever worry he held.

"Nightmare?" Helena asked softly. Her mouth was so close to his neck that her voice sent a pleasant shiver through his skin.

"It was more than that," he said, removing his hand and allowing Helena to roll of him. She was now resting on the edge of the matrass and stared at him. "I had a vision; like with Arya."

With some difficulty, he managed to describe what he had seen. _It isn't real,_ he told himself when the emotions threatened to overtake him. _I won't let it be._

Helena seemed appropriately disturbed. "Well, obviously I am still alive."

"I must have seen the future." Only once he had said it, did Eragon fear he might sound crazy.

"Your visions from Arya were all in the present, weren't they?" Helena said more than asked.

"It was different, somehow. In those visions I just saw her lying injured in a cell. This time I felt like I could interact, somehow."

"Are absolutely sure, you weren't just dreaming?" she wondered, though it sounded more like actually making sure and not outright dismissive of his claim of fortune telling. "I knew I sometimes dreamt of my friends dying. Our lives are dangerous and dreams can reflect our deepest fears."

Eragon thought about and began to hope that she might be right. He really didn't want that to have been a true prophetic dream.

Saphira dashed his hopes. _'If it had been a normal dream I would have been able to wake you. I don't know if what you saw was some sort of prophecy, but I do know that there was something strange about it.'_

Eragon relayed Saphira's words.

Helena's eyes grew dull and she sat herself strait on the edge of the bed, staring at the wall. "I wish you didn't have this ability."

"But now that we know we can prepare," Eragon suggested, still lying on the bed but elevating himself by his elbows so he was closer to her level. "My vision of Arya allowed us to save her."

Helena snorted, not turning around to face him. "Your vision was too vague to really help us. It said nothing except that I would die painfully in the future, somehow. It didn't even tell us were the threat to my life would come from." She rubbed her hands down her face and cursed. "I thought I was done with being fated to die."

"You are not dying," Eragon promised her.

"What are we supposed to do? Be careful? We always try to be careful, and danger finds us anyway."

"To be fair, we do put ourselves in dangerous situations. We went to Dras-Leona, Gil'aed, and the Varden out of our volition."

"And we are unlikely to stop."

"I can't but you can. You wanted to search for a way to return hope, didn't you? Perhaps you should focus on that."

That suggestion did make her turn around to look at him. "You would have me leave?"

"Considering the alternative, yes," he said, though it pained him to say it.

"That's the stupid thing about prophecy," Helena said with bitter humor. "Even when they give more specifics than what yours did, you never know how they will turn out. Often the actions you take to avoid it end up causing it instead. What if whatever spell I find or discover to return me ends up killing me instead? It's a moot point, anyway. I am not leaving."

"But we can't just do nothing," he protested.

"Yet that's exactly what we are going to do." She emphasized the point with a pointed finger. "Even if this war is likely to kill me, I'd still go on. I didn't have much chance the last time either. It didn't stop me then and it won't stop me now." She tapped his bare chest. "And don't tell me you wouldn't feel the same in my shoes."

Eragon knew that was true, but still. . . "I can't lose you too," he said softly, not managing to meet her eyes as he said it.

Helena seemed taken aback for some reason. Eragon didn't understand why; he had made it clear how much she meant to him, hadn't he? Then her eyebrows scrunched together and she started to give him a considering look.

Eragon leaned back, uncertain. He could tell by the intensity of her gaze that she must be considering something important, but he didn't know what.

The silence dragged on for nearly half a minute, and Eragon started feeling self-conscience at the way her eyes sometimes strayed from his face to his naked torso. He only wore some loose pants tonight, having wanted to feel the soft blankets and mattress on his skin while he slept.

Helena's breathing seemed to grow more labored as time dragged on and a blush spread over her cheek.

Then she moved on top of him, placing her hands to either side of his shoulders, and started to violently kiss his mouth, assaulting his tongue with her own. She didn't bother to support her weight with her arms and Eragon fell back down on his back. Surprised, but not frozen or feeling at all objectionable, working entirely on instinct, his arms wrapped around the young woman and pressed her closer to his torso. Feeling the soft mounts of her breasts pressing against him through her nightgown, his hands started to trace the smooth curves of her body through the soft blue fabric of her clothes.

Things escalated further when Helena began to rub her body against his. Their mouths separated in the process as Helena's mouth ran over his cheeks, chin and neck, tasting whatever parts of his body she could reach at any given moment. Hot breath brushed and tickled against his skin along with the wetness of her tongue.

 _This is really happening,_ was Eragon's first truly lucid thought as Helena pulled her blouse above her breasts, allowing him to feel her skin directly. Both still had their lower bodies covered but that didn't stop him from slipping his hands under her pants and feeling her thighs and bottom for the first time.

Helena didn't seem to mind, smiling lasciviously at him with flushed cheeks, and after what felt like only a short time of feeling each other up some more, slipped her legs under the crumpled bedsheets that still covered his own lower body. She then pulled the sheets over both their bodies up to his shoulders, leaving only the top of her head visible, though he still felt all of her.

Their legs entangled themselves and Helena, after some clumsy finagling, managed to trap the loose ends of his pants between her ankles and pull on them just enough for his arousal to slip free. Her legs spread apart after that.

The wanderings of his own hands had loosened her own breaches enough that they had slipped to bellow her thighs, and Eragon now felt their sexes rubbing against each other. . .

Eragon's eyes opened wide, and his mind shocked itself into rationality as if he had been drenched in ice cold water.

He pulled himself up to a sitting position, pushing Helena off of himself in the process. He kept one outstretched hand on her shoulder to force distance between them.

Helena blinked at him open mouthed. "Wha?"

"We can't do this." A loud part of his brain was calling him a fool for stopping this, but he managed to ignore it.

She bit her lip nervously. "Was it too soon?"

"Yes."

"Oh," was all she said, but Eragon could hear a lot of emotion in it; both sadness, embarrassment, and even shame. She pulled and adjusted her clothes so they covered her again, and even pulled the bedsheets to her body for extra protection, showing remarkable shyness considering the last few minutes.

"We're not married, nor even engaged," he elaborated lest Helena think _she_ was somehow the problem.

The myriad of emotions on her face were replaced by genuine puzzlement. "Whut?"

Eragon stared back and returned her confusion with his own. There was absolutely no way she couldn't not know!

"If we continued like that," he said slowly, baffled that he needed to explain this. "I might have gotten a bastard on you."

"You feared you would get me pregnant?" she asked for confirmation.

"Well, yes and no. . . not in that way," he said. "We need to be married first or it would be great shame to us both."

It appeared everything either of them would say would end up surprising the other.

Helena recoiled and held up a hand. "Woah, woah, woah, let's slow down a moment. Are you saying you actually want to get a child on me, but only after you marry me?"

"Ehm. . ." was his eloquent response. He had thought and dreamed about that, but something warned him that just saying so now would be a bad idea. Not that his hesitance didn't speak for itself.

Helena's jaw dropped. "Merlin's balls. And I here I was, fearing I went too fast, and here you are, talking about marriage and children." Incredulity dripped from every word.

"Were else did you think this was going?" he asked, still confused but also worried.

She opened her mouth, but no words came out, as if she never actually considered the question herself before.

"Are we not courting?" he continued to ask.

She blinked and looked at nothing for a moment, seemingly needing to actually think about the question.

"Is this just a passing fancy for you?" he asked, shocked at the possibility.

"No!" she denied quickly.

"Then what are we doing?"

"We're. . ." she looked about herself helplessly. "We're dating. Seeing each other. Boyfriend and girlfriend."

"I have heard you use those words before," he said, feeling like they were about to make progress in untangling this mess. "Is there a difference?"

"It's all a lot less. . . formal?"

"You sound unsure," he pointed out.

"It's not like I'm an expert on the subject," she said defensively. "Does it have to be more complicated than two people liking each other and spending time together?"

"We're doing a lot more than simply spending time together," he said dryly.

"You know what I mean!" she exclaimed, cheeks blushing again.

"Your parents were married weren't they? Why does my bringing up the subject scare you?"

"If this is you asking me to marry you, then I am very sorry Eragon, but the answer is no."

"I am not asking you to marry me!" Eragon exclaimed back at her, making a short wild gesture with his hand. "Not yet anyway. I know that's premature. That's why we are courting. So I get a chance to convince you. That's how it works, doesn't?"

"Okay. . ," she still seemed taken aback everything, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "I think I just didn't put nearly as much thought into this as you did."

"Obviously," he said, feeling a lot more confident now that it looked like the fault didn't lie with him.

"Anyway," she spoke, drawing out the word in a way that indicated she wanted to move away from this topic. "You don't need to worry about me getting pregnant. We witches know of a potion that can renders us infertile until we drink the antidote, no side effects. Ends our monthlies too. Magic is convenient like that."

A part him felt disquieted at what she told me _._ To him, sex was one of the most intimate things you could do with another person. The act had an almost mythical aspect to it by the way people spoke of it; or didn't speak of it more like. By the time you were willing to share yourself so completely with another person, it was normal that marriage and children wouldn't be far off. The thought that sex could become so casual and free of consequence made him feel uneasy. That uneasiness warred with the desire to simply resume what they had been doing before now that he didn't need to fear dishonoring her and was soundly defeated. "So you don't mind if we continue. . ." Oh, blast it! Why is this still so hard to talk about even after they had nearly done it. "Even though you have no plans to marry anyone yet?"

"Was I not obvious enough when I threw myself at you?" she smiled wryly

"So. . ." he drawled, and eyed her suggestively. She had stopped trying to hide herself behind the blanket about halfway through their talks, and she sat on straight on her knees with her hands on either side. He could still vividly recall how her body had felt in his hands. The new possibilities that could now be explored without consequence started to revive his arousal.

Helena's smile grew wide and teasing. "Nah, huh. You have thoroughly ruined the moment, love." The dismay on his face seemed to only widen her grin. "I expect something property romantic next time. Don't wait too long," she teasingly padded his cheeks. "You never know how much time you have."

Those words brought back the vision that started this event, and they both grew somber. "That was in poor taste," she admitted.

"I'll say," he agreed.

"Try not to let it bother you," she said, obviously trying to reassure him with a kind smile. "I have beaten all the odds before, and might do it again. And prophecies don't always mean what you think they mean. We truly don't know anything."

"I don't think I can just ignore what I saw," he admitted.

"The best thing any of us can do right now is get some sleep," she gave him a chaste kiss on the lips and pushed herself off the mattress.

Eragon briefly entertained the thought of pulling her back into bed with him, but the moment pasted. "Goodnight," he called after her.

"Goodnight," she returned with a soft smile, and then she was gone.

Eragon sat on the bed, knowing it was going to be very hard to get any sleep in. Even more then the vision, he couldn't banish the memories Helena in his arms as they explored each other with all the fervor and gracelessness of two virgins, and that brief moment when his member touched that moist area between her legs. Nor did he want to forget to be honest, but it did present a problem as he felt himself stirring even more.

Exhaling an audible heavy breath, he realized he needed to care of this before he had any chance of sleeping. He was grateful Saphira had put as many barriers between their minds as possible once his encounter with Helena began. All of this was embarrassing enough with only himself as a witness to his thoughts.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The next morning as the riders met each other in the dining hall was an awkward affair. Both looked like they didn't get much sleep. Even after relieving himself, Eragon couldn't get the words from last night out of his head and what it all meant.

After some prodding, Eragon had shared last night's events with Saphira. The blue dragon had been utterly baffled by both their behaviors and declared the entire human race mentally ill. It looks like she was washing her claws of their romantic problems.

The riders set themselves at the table, waiting for servants to bring them their breakfast, neither being able to hold the others gaze for long

Eragon tried to search for some topic of conversation, but his thoughts kept being pulled back to Helena's strange behavior. Or perhaps it wasn't strange at all. A memory had come to him as lay in bed, unable to sleep. _'You want me to act demure, obedient and act like my greatest wish in life is marry a good husband so I can pop out babies?'_

He knew that she was different than other women, but when she agreed to be courted, he thought everything was going to progress as expected. _But she didn't really agree to that did she_? _'I will be your girlfriend'_ and _'yes, I want to see where this goes',_ were her exact words. He thought that being boyfriend and girlfriend was the same as courting, but maybe it was the same as. . . what? Being a mistress or paramour? Courting without any of the future prospects? Shit, he didn't understand her at all.

 _'Does it have to be more complicated than two people liking each other and spending time together?'_

Could he do as she had suggested and simply not think about it? Maybe, but words had been spoken and he couldn't take them back. She knew his mind now and, honestly, it was probably better this way. He wouldn't apologize for his hopes and dreams. If Helena was so close minded that she believed being part of a family would turn her into a ' _demure, obedient wife who's greatest wish is to pop out babies'_ then that was her failing _._ If that was so, it was better that he knew so now.

The more he thought about it, and with his libido no longer distracting his thoughts, the more he found himself shifting the blame for their current problems on Helena. "What do you want from me?" he finally asked her after the servants had brought their meals and left.

Her shoulders slumped at the question. "I don't know."

"Then how am I supposed to know?"

"You are doing fine."

"Clearly not, considering last night."

Helena sighed tiredly. "You ask me what I want from you?" Her voice and face grew wistful. "I want to be held and be loved. Have you show your concern for me, be kind and unashamedly romantic and sing me horrendously bad poetry. Like I said, you're doing fine." Her expression became subdued. "The problem isn't what I want from you. The problem is what you want from me."

"I love you," he said, and found his words true despite his current annoyance. "That is why I want to keep you with me."

"I love you too." And Eragon braced himself for the 'but' that he knew was coming. "But the future is uncertain. I can't promise you anything, not marriage nor future children. Even if I were to stay in Alagaësia." She rubbed her temples tiredly. "Blimey, you are only sixteen."

Eragon was suddenly reminded of all the girls in Carvahall who were warned by their mothers, and fathers, and the elder women to be careful of men who wouldn't commit to anything. He had never expected that warning to work in the opposite direction. The comparison almost made him laugh.

"Do you want to end it?" she asked, looking dejected.

Eragon shook his head, more to buy himself time to think than as an actual answer. As he had said, he still loved her. All of her flaws couldn't hold up to her virtues. Courage, passion, and a desire to do right wherever she could. For all of their current misunderstandings, they had a lot in common on a fundamental level. More pragmatically, she was the only human woman he could really be with, considering that they were both immortal. He didn't want to be alone forever. Elves were a possibility, but if Arya was anything to go by, they were even more different from him than Helena was.

"No, I don't want to end it," he said, and groaned tiredly. "All of this is just really strange to me. All of this talk about a future together was only supposed to come after at least a few months of convincing you I am good match. Not a week after our first kiss. None of the rules I have been taught seem to apply here." If they had both lived in Carvahall they wouldn't have even needed to have this conversation. It would all just be understood.

"A few months ago you were a farm boy in Carvahall and I was in entirely different world. And I am still planning to research traveling across dimensions. Who knows where we will be in a few months, or if we will even be alive." Eragon's vision loomed over them like a dark cloud, reminding him that maybe they had bigger things to worry about than their far distant future.

"Alright, let's focus on the present," he declared, and smiled wryly at her. "You want me to be unashamedly romantic? Come over here." He padded his legs.

A relieved smile appeared on her face and she went over to him and sat herself on his lap. He wrapped one of his arm around her midriff to hold her close and used the other to fill a spoon with broth. "Say 'AAH'." He said as he slowly brought the spoon to her mouth.

She opened her mouth wide, eyes sparkling with delight. "AAAHHHHHHH. . ."

After a while Helena started to feed him as well in a similarly silly way. And that was how Gannel found them; sitting in each other's lap while holding spoons to the others mouth.

xxxxxxxx

Despite being tired from a lack of sleep, Eragon left for the temple in high spirits. There had been some stumbling but he and Helena were fine again. Still, he was looking forward to the coming tour and lessons that had nothing to do with trying to understand the minds of women. He needed a break.

Celbediel was more than a temple to the dwarven gods. It was also a collection of the most wondrous awe-inspiring art he had ever seen. If Tronjheim's glory came from its sheer scale as well as the obvious effort and resources it would have taken to build. Celbediel's glory came from the skill and creativity of the artisans that worked on it.

Gannel led them through long painted hallways that depicted the history of Alagaësia from the ages myths and gods to the present day.

Eragon froze when he found the newest painting. An idealistic picture of a much younger Brom shoving a sword through Morzan's ribs. Brom's expression was one of enraged passion with tears running down his face while Morzan looked surprised he had been bested. Eragon doubted it really went down that way. The Brom he remembered was a cool and calculating fighter not prone to bouts of passion. His old mentor told him that he defeated Morzan using cunning, not rage and strength. Eragon still considered the painting a work worthy of Brom, however, despite its inaccuracy.

"Soon our artisans will start to work on depicting your own victory at Farthen Dûr," Gennal said, pointing further down the as of yet unpainted empty hallway.

From there it was like they were walking backwards in time. The death of every one of the Forsworn was captured on the walls, though none were given the attention that Morzan's defeat had received. They also passed an area with paintings of a ruby colored dragon breathing fire on the city of Tarnac. The dragon, which he knew to be Morzan's, did bear a remarkable resemblance to Godric, except he was much larger, his claws were more elongated and had a darker hue to them. The painted walls were sectioned off by pillars of granite, with each section showing a different event in history. Before each section stood a stone tablet with an explanation of the event carved into its surface. It was written in dwarfish, however, so they had to rely on Gannel's narration.

Another picture that was even grander than the defeat of Morzan or the burning of Tarnac, showed Galbatorix's battle against Vrael. It came in many parts with one frame showing Galbatorix on his back in a position that indicated he had just fallen but was trying to get up, with Vrael's gleaming wide sword on his neck. Vrael's expression was one of sorrowful hesitance; like a once proud parent being forced to fight one of his own children. Galbatorix's was snarling back at him, hand reaching for his fallen sword. It was the perfect picture of a tragic hero facing down a malicious villain. Another corner of the wall showed Galbatorix lunching forward, calling Vrael's bluff that he wouldn't use the sword pointing at his neck.

From there they walked through the battle at Ilirea, which later became Urû'bean, and the destruction of Doru Araeba.

Gannel continued his history lesson. "Not much is known about what happened during that battle. All we know for sure was that there was a cataclysmic explosion that killed nearly all of the remaining riders and one of the Forsworn. We guess it must have been some spell gone awry, since even Galbatorix was said to be wounded by it. We don't know by whom it was cast. Now the island is rumored to be home to many strange and dangerous creatures. Among the few scavengers that dared to go there, the even fewer that returned told us that everything of value has been destroyed."

The journey continued and Eragon couldn't help feeling small in the presence of these depictions of Alagasia's greatest heroes. Never more so when he reached the end of the hallway, which ended in a large circular room, which Gannel informed them depicted the event that marked the beginning of an era.

A young male elf with long white hair, red rimmed haunted eyes, and tense shoulders kneeling in the snow and clutching a gleaming dragon egg that put both the elves' hair and the snow to shame with the purity of its whiteness.

"Behold, Eragon, your namesake. The first Rider, and arguable the greatest hero this world has ever seen. Not because he won a war, but because he ended one. If not for him and the dragon Bid'Daum, the elves and the dragons might have driven each other to extinction."

Suddenly the moniker of 'The Second' that Ûndin had given him upon their first meeting made sense.

Gannel gestured around himself, and Eragon felt his blood grow cold. He hadn't noticed before since the picture of his namesake drew his attention, but the rest of the circular walls depicted Alagaësia drowning in blood and fire. The artisans had not pulled any punches when showing the results of the battles between the elves and dragons. Eragon saw an elf staggering towards a fallen dragon to finish it off, all the while clutching his own obviously mortal wound to prevent even more of his entrails from falling out. A cave full of shattered dragon eggs. He saw fleeing women with babes clutched to their chests being engulfed in dragon flame. They showed the charred corpses in vivid detail. It was like every new horror they saw was trying to outdo the one before.

Eragon had seen war during the battle of Farthen Dûr, but for all its brutality, there was still some measure of honor to be found there. Everyone on that battlefield had chosen to be there and had the ability and will to fight. What was depicted on these walls was something else. A true war of annihilation were two races tried to exterminate the other. From Gannel, they learned that it started when an elven hunting party killed one of the dragons, thinking them nothing more than beasts. Then the dragons retaliated. Then the elves retaliated further. Then the dragons. Then the elves, until nobody cared where it started anymore, but they couldn't stop.

He averted his eyes when he could stomach it no longer and found Helena similarly horrified with a hand covering her face. He moved close enough to wrap an arm around her, as much for his comfort as hers. They exchanged a glance of mutual gratitude before their gazes were again drawn to Eragon, The Savior. He knew that would be his name even before anyone told it to him.

"What happened to him?" Eragon asked.

"He founded the Riders, of course," Gannel said reverently. "My people may have had troubles with the Riders in the past, but we recognize greatness when we see it."

"How did he die?" Helena asked softly.

"He and Bid'Daum died in an attack by the Ra'zac, who were more numerous then. Despite their achievements, they were actually one of the least powerful Rider and Dragon pairs of their time."

"How is that possible?" Eragon wondered. It seemed wrong for such a hero to be called weak.

"Because he wasn't a Rider, not like you two are," Gannel answered. "The Riders that came after him were a result of the Blood-oath. A magical pact between the elves and dragons, and later humans, that bounded them together. A dragon egg would choose a partner and the ancient enchantment would bind their souls together, making both stronger than would otherwise be. Eragon and Bid'Daum met each other before the pact was made; they were never bonded together by magic. They were just an elf and a dragon that became friends. Despite that, or maybe because of it, I call them the greatest of their kind."

Was this whom he was named for? _I think I am going to be sick._

"We'll take a small break here," Gannel stated, giving him a sympathetic look. "I need to wet my throat before we continue. Meet back at the entrance hall in twenty minutes."

Eragon didn't know if Gannel really needed to drink something after talking for one and half hours, or if he sensed Eragon wanted to confide in private. But he was grateful for it.

He stepped closer to the panting that took up the entire ten square yards of the wall. It was so large that he knew his neck would soon be sore from staring up. "I refused Jörmundur when he offered me the name 'Dragonheart'. I thought it was too grand, considering my own lack of achievements. Now I don't know why he even bothered. It seems the name 'Eragon' carries more glory than any other name he could give me."

Helena stood next to his shoulder, but didn't say anything. Simply keeping a calm eye on him.

"Was this Morzan's idea of joke? Naming me after the greatest rider of all time?"

No answer came, not from Helena, nor Saphira. He knew there couldn't be one.

"At one point, a name carries to much expectation for anyone to handle," he continued to say.

"Like calling your own child Merlin, or Jesus," Helena supplied.

Helena had told him enough background on her world to understand the comparison. "Exactly," he agreed. "How am I ever supposed to be worthy?"

"Once we beat Galbatorix, I am sure everyone will agree the name fits," Helena smiled encouragingly.

"But I won't be the one to beat him," Eragon voiced a fear he had intended to keep to himself and Saphira. "You will be one to defeat him."

Helena's looked at him as if he had just slapped her. "You're putting it on me?"

"Don't misunderstand me. I will stand by your side every step of the way. Die if I have to. But I am not blind. I am a new novice Rider; no different from any of the hundreds that went before me, and died fighting Galbatorix and his Forsworn. But you? You have powers unique to this world. Powers that Galbatorix doesn't have or know, and you have saved a world once before. If anyone can do this, it is you and your endless bag of tricks and miracles."

Helena stared at him for a long moment, looking heartbroken, and then she walked away toward the entrance hall, alone.

 _'That was poorly done,'_ Saphira chastised him. _'I don't think she likes the pressure anymore more than you do. And you just pushed the responsibility of winning the war on her.'_

 _'Did I lie?'_

 _'You spoke from the heart, but it was still a cruel thing to do.'_

"Shit," he cursed through clenched teeth. "Shit." He turned around and ran after her, catching up to her only after a few painted sections. She must have heard him approaching, but didn't turn around until he laid a hand on her small shoulder. Eragon knew that the blank stare she gave him was his fault and guilt made his heart clench painfully. _How pathetic a man can you be? Your supposed to protect and comfort her, not this._

"I am sorry. I didn't mean it. It was a moment of weakness, that's all."

A sigh escaped Helena's lips. "It's alright Eragon. I am used it, and I appreciate your support. It just made feel. . . a little lonely, I guess."

"I won't stop until I am as strong as you," he promised.

"You already are."

Eragon disagreed. "Galbatorix must have faced hundreds of master swordsmans and magicians. I'll become good at both, but I'll find some other way to contribute beyond that. Like you do."

"How? You can't help what you are. I was born with these powers and you were not," she bluntly pointed out.

"I don't know," he answered honestly. "Maybe I can become a sorcerer?"

"Trianna told me enough about summoning spirits that you can't use it as a cheat to become more powerful than you already are, unless you become a Shade," Helena said, shaking her head. "Really, Eragon, it is alright." She smiled wanly. "I'm used to this, and I'll pull through. Just stand by me and we'll be fine."

"I won't stop looking for ways to help," Eragon promised again.

She looked at him fondly. "I know." She moved in for a hug and he reciprocated, burying his face into her raven hair while she rested her head in the crook of his neck. _She's so much smaller than me,_ he couldn't help but think. _I should be able to protect her._

 _'Good,'_ Saphira commented, _'I would have been. . . displeased if you had used Helena's presence as an excuse to shirk your own destiny.'_ For the first time a little genuine malice seeped into Saphira's tone, and Eragon suppressed a shiver. Yes, disappointing her so severely would not have been wise.

Henena pushed herself away from him after a few seconds. "Come. We don't want to keep Gannel waiting too long."

 _The world won't wait for us to deal with our personal problems,_ Eragon thought, feeling drained. "One day the world will be stable again, and we will have all the time in the world."

Helena snorted. "That'll be the day. Let's just try and enjoy this shall we? Gannel is a good story teller, you have to admit." Helena continued walking and he followed her.

"Good. I was just about to come looking for you." Gannel stood up from where he was sitting when he saw them. "It is a real shame you can't stay for long. This tour would normally last a week. I am just giving you a heavily abridged version." He grinned. "But now we get to the real meat of the matter. The time before elves and dragon, the history of our people. To a time where the gods themselves walked the land."

It wasn't hard for Eragon's mood to improve again once Gannel led them towards another painted corridor, this time accompanied by statues. Eragon had always been inquisitive, so he couldn't think of anything he would rather be doing, other than going back to his bed.

Carvahall didn't have a proper religion so much as it had a long list of superstitions. Everybody agreed that there were higher powers beyond the physical, but it was all rather vague. Spirits that haunted the clumsy and the unlucky. The concepts like justice that had personalities and pushed the world this way and that. Legends of gods that walked the earth, which upon reflection, Eragon suspected might have referred to the riders of old.

As such, Eragon was fascinated by Gannel's exposition of the dwarven pantheon. He had read some of it in the library of Tronjheim, but what could be learned from dusty tomes paled in comparison to the dwarven priest's enthusiasm and sincerity. That the dwarves also had a goddess, Shindri, who was a patron of the human race managed to make Eragon feel more involved.

Remembering Arya's warning about not accepting anything without question, Eragon happily asked plenty of questions. Gannel didn't seem to mind; even seemed enthused by his inquisitiveness, and answered in fantastical anecdotes and metaphors that Eragon found made perfect sense. Helena stayed mostly quiet. She didn't seem annoyed or anything, just ambivalent about everything. It was clear to him, and probably Gannel, that she didn't believe all she heard. Eragon supposed it all did seem a little fantastical, but Eragon was just content to have an explanation were before there wasn't one.

Gannel continued to talk for three hours before they took a small break. "That's all we have time for, I'm afraid," the dwarven priest said. "I still need to teach you an important rite, but after that we are done. You can only take in so much at a time."

What followed was less interesting, but thankfully didn't last long. Gannel taught them how to properly bury a dwarf in stone and the words of mourning they needed to say in that event. That didn't take longer than fifteen minutes, but Gannel insisted that they didn't leave before they could recite the verses from memory. Thankfully, Gannel gave them a translated version of the original Darvish version.

"Spell-Master, you didn't seem very convinced earlier," Gannel pointed out.

Helena lifted her eyes upward as if to say 'why me'. "What do you want me to say Gannel? You can't force belief, and besides, if you know of my origins, it wouldn't matter if I did. They still wouldn't be my gods."

"What do you believe in Helena?" Gannel asked curiously.

Helena shrugged. "I believe a great many things, but I know what you are really asking. The truth is that I don't know. And I don't think I ever will, nor do I think it matters."

"You're a strange one," Gannel said, giving her a shrewd look. "But don't be afraid your lack of faith will be held against you. Just show respect for our ways and you will be fine. Even if you don't live them yourself."

"Ehum," Eragon cleared his throat. "I don't think I am entirely convinced either," Eragon admitted before Gannel left with the wrong idea about him.

"But you are thinking about it," Gannel smiled. "That's all I really expected. Now, I have one more thing to offer you. You can thank Hrothgar for it since he asked it of me." Gannel fished two necklaces out of his robe's pockets. One had a minature silver hammer attacked to it, which he gave to Helena, the other had figure that looked like a frozen flame, which he gave to Eragon. "Hrothgar worries that Galbatorix might be able to scry you if he has seen your image in the mind of one of his minions. These necklaces will protect you from that."

Helena held the necklace close to her face by its silver hammer. "Why didn't we think of that?"

 _Why didn't I? The ancient language is supposed to be my area of expertise,_ Eragon berated himself. "Would that even work? Surely Arya would have said something if we had overlooked something so important."

A flicker of annoyance flickered across Gannel's face at the mention of Arya's name. "We don't know. But even if he can't. If just one of Galbatorix's magician's has seen you. . ." he let the statement hang.

"Thank you for the gift," Eragon thanked him, putting on the neckless under the color of his shirt.

"Indeed," Helena did the same. "I haven't seen many magical items around the Varden, so they must be hard to make. Thank you."

Gannol nodded his head. "You are quiet welcome. Be aware that the necklace will draw from your own lifeforce if activated, which you will notice instantly."

"How much energy?" Eragon asked.

"Much less than the magician on the other end is using when he tries to scry you, but it may still be a risk if you find yourself exhausted."

The grinding sound of a door opening sounded across the hall. They turned and found Arya striding towards them, and there was something strange in the way she held herself. It made Eragon feel uneasy.

The elf met Gannel with a curt nod. "Grimstborith."

"Shadeslayer," Gannel returned. A tiny smile tugged at the corner of Arya's lips at the moniker. For all that she claimed that one of the Riders should have taken the credit, she seemed to enjoy the reminder of her just revenge.

"I take it you are done with instructing the Riders on your mythology."

Eragon suspected he was about to discover just why Arya didn't like this place.

Gannel smile was strained. "One should always understand the faith of the society one belongs to."

"But understanding does not imply belief," Arya's face was serene, but thought he could sense a hint of challenge in her eyes. "Nor does it mean that those who purvey such beliefs do so for more than... material gain."

"Question our beliefs if you must, Shadeslayer, but do not question my motives," Gannel snarled.

"How can I not?" Arya asked with faux-innocence, running a finger over a nearby pillar. "When I think of all the potential good your incredible wealth can do for your people, for the Varden, for the whole world even. Yet you pile it into monuments for your own wishful thinking."

Gannel's face contorted in anger. _This can't possibly end well,_ Eragon thought. "Enough! You may have killed a Shade, but I will not allow your sacrilege." Arya merely smiled. "Not here of all places. Without our prayer and sacrifices, the crops would wither in drought. Rivers and lakes would flood. Our flocks would give birth to one-eyed beasts. The very heavens would shatter under the gods' rage!. . ."

Eragon listened to the argument with a mix of interest and dismay. While Gannel continued to speak about the good his clan did with their worship, Arya started to ask questions. Questions that pointed out contradictions in the narrative presented by the dwarven mythology. It also questioned the nature and morality of gods if they did exist. As Arya continued to question and insinuate with a serene smile on her face, Gannel continued to grow more emotional. The dwarf soon started to make his words louder instead of smarter.

More and more as the 'conversation' continued, Eragon started to doubt the stories he had been presented with in the last few hours. He realized that these were the questions that Arya had wanted him to ask. Still, something about this just felt wrong and he wanted them both to stop.

He whispered to Helena. "Don't you think we should stop this?" At this point, it looked like Gannel might lose his senses and attack Arya. He didn't fear for Arya's safety. Gannel may be a competent magician, if his enchanted necklace was any indication, but Arya was a supernatural being. If the dwarf made a move towards her it could only end in his humiliation at best.

"I am not touching that argument with a ten foot pool," Helena whispered back.

Eragon frowned, as he continued to observe the argument. On the surface it seemed like Gannel was making an ass of himself,and he was in a way. He had forgone trying to defend his position and was starting to make unsubtle insinuations of Arya's character. All the while, Arya kept a pleasant and polite smile on his face.

Yet, when Eragon looked into Arya's eyes, he could detect a hint of smugness in them. She was winning and she knew it. He was actually starting feel bad for Gannel. He obviously felt very strongly about all this, and all his emotions started to overcome his good sense.

"Arya," he said in a low voice, causing both speakers to stop and turn to him, Gannel angry, Arya smiling. "Shut up." There was a moment of stunned silence as both looked equally surprised at the target of his rebuke. The moment passed and Gannel. . . continued to look surprised. Seeing the young boy Rider tell off the beautiful elven maiden in favor of a gruff dwarven priest simply didn't mesh with him.

Arya on the other hand now directed her too polite smile at him. "Do you have something to add to this discussion, Eragon."

The frosty anger in her eyes combined with the aura of perfection that always seemed to surround the elf nearly made Eragon stammer out an apology. Instead he clenched his hand, muttering, "We are done here," and started to walk out of Celbediel. Helena followed after him and started walked at his side, watching him curiously.

"That whole concept of staying neutral is really death and buried, isn't it?" she asked wryly.

"I don't know why that bothered me so much," Eragon gave voice to his frustration. "Arya is probably right, and it's all just a bunch of stories. It's just. . . what business is it of hers?"

"She spoke what was on her mind," Helena said. "I hardly think I am one to criticize."

"But what was she trying to accomplish? Did she really think she could convince Gannel or did she want to start a fight she knew she couldn't lose? It seems unlike her. And it's their damn faith," he ranted. "Brom lectured me on assuming everyone thought like me. I still struggle with that, as you know, but I expected an elf to do better."

"Arya did have a point though," Helena spoke cautiously. "If they put their resources towards something more practical, they'd be a lot better off."

"It's their money," he grumbled. "And whatever the actual use, they think they are helping the world and there people. That's still better than those who care only for themselves."

"They could still do better."

Eragon stopped his stride, pausing in front of wall painting of the gods of water and fire, Kilf and Morgothal, fighting each other over something or other. "I thought it was you that asked me to respect other people's cultures."

"Sure, but not all cultures are equal. Remember Dras-Leona?"

Eragon couldn't forget even if he wanted to. People cut of pieces of themselves to placate Helgrind, and there was such a dividing line between the rich and the poor that it made him question the morality of his entire race. "I remember."

"And I remember some of the stuff the old pure-blood families came up with. Should we accept all of that without at least speaking up about it?"

"And what about my culture?" he asked moodily.

Helena was momentarily taken aback by the aggressive question, but recovered quickly. "It gave me you, so it can't be all that bad."

Eragon snorted, but secretly felt pleased. "I still think Arya should have been more considerate."

"And _that_ ," Helena said with great emphasize. "Is why you should be the next leader of the Riders."

"Huh?" Was Eragon's eloquent response. _Where had that come from?_

Helena smiled. "You care about people and this land in a way that I never will."

"You say that, yet you fight just as hard as me."

"But I doubt Alagaësia and its people will ever be as home to me as it is to you. I don't like admitting it, but a lot of little things about this world and people are. . . distasteful to me."

"You are not necessarily wrong you when call something distasteful. You were right about Murtagh not being like Morzan just because of blood. Something I am glad you convinced me of before my own relation came to light. You cause me to question things and I think that's good."

"But I will never understand these people like you will," Helena insisted. "And I doubt others will care as much about my opinion as you do. Murtagh didn't."

Eragon was about to object further. How he wasn't ready, and how Helena had more achievements to her name. But hadn't he recently resolved to help her however he could? To do what he could? _This. This I can do. I hope._

"Very well. I am not going to argue further. If it comes to that, I'll take up that work."

Helena looked momentary surprised by his acceptance. "Good. Then let's pack our bags and say goodbye so we can move on."

And so they did. Or planned to. Somehow, Arya had managed to beat them back towards the chambers Ûndin had assigned him. Eragon found her sitting with her legs crossed on the stool opposite a writing desk.

"You shouldn't flee from words, Eragon," she said as he stood frozen in the doorframe. The elf looked at him with more curiosity than hostility. "Did you really buy into the dwarven mythology so quickly?"

"Not really," he answered.

"I'm glad you're not that gullible."

 _Gullible. . ._ "Whether you are right about the dwarven gods or not isn't important. You were being cruel."

"Cruel?" she repeated, tilting her head slightly.

"Did you really expect to convince Gannel?"

"Of course I didn't expect to convince Gannel, but that wasn't the point. Do you think I confronted him for his benefit?"

"Why then?"

"I did it for you."

That made him pause for a short moment. "How does angering a dwarven Grimstborith who has been nothing but accommodating help me?"

"He gave you only one side of the story. I wanted to make sure you actually thought about what is being taught in that temple."

"But why didn't you wait until we were alone again."

Arya didn't answer.

"Admit it. You wanted to humiliate Gannel in front of us. Why?"

Arya started to look troubled, so Eragon was content to let the silence stretch on until she answered.

"Perhaps you have a point," she admitted, lowering her gaze. "Gannel and his clan, Dûrgrimst Quan, they frustrate me. They could do so much good in the war against Galbatorix, and they don't. But what I did served no purpose." A weight seemed to settle on her shoulders. "I have been away from home for too long."

"You're homesick?" Eragon asked bluntly.

"Not the point. I am beginning to act– " Arya seemed to catch herself in time to stop, but Eragon guessed the end of her sentence all the same.

"Like a human?"

Eragon recognized the reluctance and shame of admitting fault on the elven woman's face. "I know this must sound arrogant to you, but I have lived two of your lifetimes already and I am supposed to be a diplomate. I should be smarter than that."

"You should apologies to Gannel then," Eragon suggested.

Arya looked like she tasted something foul in her mouth. "I suppose."

"We were about to pack our bags to leave, so you won't have much time."

"Short and painless," she said with a sigh. "Very well. I will inform Ûndin and Gannel of our intention.

She left and Eragon sound found himself standing in the courtyard, waiting for Helena. However, Arya wasn't the only one that wanted to have meeting with him.

 _'Brace yourself. Godric wants to have a private word with you,'_ Saphira warned him just before the shadow of Godric's body darkened the yard. The red dragon landed so close to him that Eragon had trouble staying upwards.

Godric seemed to want to play with his nerves a bit since his head circled him like wolf did a small defenseless animal. Eragon hadn't properly understood how scary a dragon was until he met one that wasn't bonded to his soul. Especially one that didn't seem to like him that much.

 _'Don't be afraid,'_ Saphira told him. _'He is just testing you. I wouldn't have let him meet you alone without getting some reassurances from him.'_

If this was a test then Eragon didn't know how he was supposed to pass it. Just stand there frozen in fear? Walk boldly forward and swat the big mean looking dragon on the nose? Yea, no, that wasn't happening.

Eventually Godric stopped with his face just ten inches from his own face. _'Your vision. I demand you share it with me.'_

 _Of course._ That wasn't a request – read order – that he was unwilling to follow. Eragon didn't exactly know how he could give memories though. Every time someone other than Saphira looked through his memories it had been without his consent. For lack of a better idea he just tried to think of the beginning of the vision. Once he did, Godric dove into his mind so he could watch the memories on his own terms. To be fair, it probably did give the dragon a clearer picture than Eragon's attempts at recollection, but it wasn't pleasant. Eragon knew that Saphira would have taken a threat to his safety just as serious, so he didn't object to the rough treatment.

As soon as the nastier bit of the vision began, Eragon was treated to a sound he didn't know was possible. Godric started whimpering. When it was over, Godric retreated from him with sluggish movements as if he had several wounds all over his body, like dream Helena. _'We are done boy,'_ the dragon dismissed him.

 _'Why are you so snappy with me,'_ Eragon asked. _'We both care about your Rider and we both want to protect her. We should be allies.'_

Godric paused and looked at him curiously. _"How far would you be willing to go to protect her?"_

 _"I'd stand between her and any threat and protect her with my life."_

Godirc snorted dismissively. 'You are like Helena in that your life is the first thing you would risk, rather than the last. Tell me, would you raise a village to the ground and burn all its inhabitants to ashes if that was what it took to safe her?'

 _"Helena wouldn't want that,"_ Eragon protested, feeling disturbed at the dragon's zealousness. Saphira was protective, but he knew she had limits and scruples that Godric didn't seem to have.  
 _  
'No. She wouldn't,'_ Godric agreed readily. _'I actually do like you more than I like other people, Eragon, if that is your worry. I just don't feel the need to talk to you that often. Continue making my Helena happy and we will be fine. Hurt her however. . .'_ Godric's claws scraped along the pavement leaving deep scratches in the stone surface. Eragon cringed at the sound as well as the implication.

Helena once compared Godric to an overprotective dad. Eragon thought that too mild a comparison. He never thought he would envy Roran who only had to deal with Sloan the Butcher when he tried to court the man's daughter.

Eragon looked at Godric's form flying into the sky with trepidation. _I hope Helena can keep him on a short leash. And if she were ever to die. . . he will probably go mad, and we will have to kill him. Like a dragon version of Galbatorix._

It wasn't long until Helena joined him. He didn't tell her about his short encounter with her dragon. "Alright, let's go," she said, sounding eager.

They found Arya and Orik along with Ûndin and Gannel at the Gardens surrounding _Celbediel_. Gannel greeted him first by firmly shaking his hand. "Thank you, Eragon. I had my reservations, but I can see why Hrothgar choose you to join his clan."

"It was nothing," he demurred. Really, he had spoken up without thinking.

"No. That it wasn't. Blessings of Gûntera upon you Rider, and safe journey," he glanced at Helena. "You as well."

"Your welcome, and thank you for your time. It was interesting tour, truly."

Gannel nodded his acceptance and traded places with his fellow Grimstborith.

"I'll try and keep an eye on Az Sweldn rak Anhûin, to make sure they don't start any mischief, even after your adoption comes to light. You may have showed Tarnac your honor, but you also gave your enemies a stronger position by acknowledging their past achievements," Ûndin said.

"I am sorry if I created more trouble for you."

"Nay. You did the right thing, no matter what comes of it. Swift journeys, Eragon, and may your stay with the elves be a productive and peaceful one." He turned to Helena. "And I hope you eventually find a way to contact your home. And no, that doesn't mean we want you gone."

"I've grown on you already," Helena cooed.

"Like a bad rash," Ûndin returned dryly. "Good luck and leave this place with our blessing."

Both clan leaders left them, and Godric and Saphira descended from the sky to pick them up. Arya still joining him on Saphira while Orik went with Helena and Godric.

"We should be able to reach the edge of Du Weldenvarden in two days," Arya told him. "From there we will have to walk. The enchantments over the forest would cause Godric and Saphira to fall from the sky if they tried to fly over without being invited first."

 _Two days of just flying with Saphira,_ he thought. Gods, he felt tired. _'Do you think any trouble will find us in the sky, Saphira?'_

'Not unless you start arguing with Arya, little one.'

They rose up into the sky and towards the clouds that were growing orange again with the fading daylight.

 _'Rest little one. None will disturb you here,'_ Saphira's mind started to cover him like a warm blanket and Eragon soon found himself drifting off to sleep.

* * *

AN:  
First: Dwarvish sounds nothing like German. Helena just doesn't know many languages and this was the closest comparison in her mind.  
Second: The small lemon scene. . . not sure if I will place any others in separate stories, or in this one. But I know this one HAD to be here. Also, if – and this becomes increasingly more likely – there are more lemon's, they will be written from Helena's POV. The Eragon POV is an exception, but well. . . I wanted to show his perspective on everything.  
Third: Not sure if I will follow up on the Anhuin clan plot. I have no concrete plans. Don't expect anything.  
Fourth: Please leave a review. Both good and bad, their awesome. More than once I have gone over every single review someone left me since chapter one. It is gratifying in a way I can't explain.

Now, I really need to start focusing on my upcoming exams. CHEERS!


	26. Trees Many, Many, Trees

**Special thanks to CerealReader for fixing all the mistakes I just can't seem to stop myself from making. As expected, my update speed has slowed to a crawl, but even while crawling you can traverse great distances so long as you crawl consistently.**

* * *

It had been two days now, and Helena still couldn't stop beating herself up over her ill-thought-out advance on Eragon. Helena had once discussed with her female dorm mates in Hogwarts what she would do if a potential lover made such an advance without discussing or asking permission first. She had proudly proclaimed that she would have hexed him so bad that generations from now, his descendants would still be born with too many limbs and heads deformed to look like some pig. All of the Gryffindor girls of her year had tried to one up each other with what their hypothetical retaliation would be. All except for Hermione who believed they shouldn't joke about such things.

The reverse situation about a potential lover rebuffing any of them had never occurred to any of them. It hadn't occurred to Helena earlier, either. When their relationship had first started, she had been worried that Eragon would want to initiate acts that she didn't feel ready for. That was how it worked. Boys wanted sex and they had to woo their female love interest until she felt ready to grant their wish. Boys chasing after girls. Eragon's behavior from the moment she met him had done nothing but reinforce that view. The young man tried to go out of his way to be gallant, putting her before himself. He had showered her with compliments at every opportunity and did whatever he could to please her. Helena was nice to Eragon, yes, but that just seemed. . . normal and natural to her. All the real effort in their relationship had come from Eragon, while Helena had done nothing but bask in being so wanted. Boy chasing girl.

Helena knew that Eragon desired her. It was obvious in the way his eyes lingered at certain parts of her body. The thought that he wouldn't want to become physically intimate with her had seemed such a remote improbability that it hadn't been worth considering.

Yet he didn't, and for such a noble reason that she couldn't pssibly be upset over it. And the more she thought about it, the more she believed that Eragon should be angrier with her than he was.

 _Stupid, conceited, unfair, and sexist,_ were all attributes that Helena had repeatedly attributed to herself in the aftermath of her literal and figurative fuckup.

If their positions had been reversed, she knew she would be justifiably upset. Eragon was a good man. Culture be damned, she doubted many young men would be so considerate towards their partners. And that too, Helena realized two seconds after that thought occurred, was probably unfair of her.

It had been an impulsive decision. Eragon had once again verbalized how much he cared for her, convincing the young woman that he would never intentionally hurt her. Night had fallen; nobody would hear them. They were on a comfortable bed, Eragon was already half unclad, and her own clothes were easy to remove and had a softness to them that was pleasant to touch. Eragon's recent vision that her days might be running out had also played a part. When she had walked towards the Forbidden Forest with the intention to die, the fact that she was still a virgin had been a relatively minor regret, but it had been a regret.

Godric, of course, thought she was being too hard on herself, baffled even about the nature of the problem. Eragon had clearly enjoyed what they were doing before pushing her away, at which point she immediately backed off. What was problem?

Helena had drily replied that perhaps she wanted to hold herself to a higher standard than simply not being a rapist.

Godric was smart, but he wasn't even half a year old. Most of the knowledge he possessed that didn't come from his ancestral memory came from her, and so his perspective was limited.

 _'And making the moral decisions is supposed to be your thing, is it not?'_ came his terse comment.

Helena didn't reply. She still hated that she had been forced to establish her dominance over her draconic partner to curb his more ruthless inclinations, but she couldn't let him act contrary to the values that she stood for; especially not in her name. She dearly hoped that one day he would come to see the world as she did and she didn't need to hold his metaphorical leash anymore.

And so, she turned to the only other person that was readily available to talk to. The dwarf behind her that was strapped way more tightly than necessary to the saddle. She didn't feel nearly comfortable enough around the dwarf to discuss her bedtime-misadventures with him, but something related had also come up at the same time.

"Orik, can you explain marriage to me?" As usual when speaking from dragon's-back, they had to raise their voice to be heard over the rushing of the wind.

Orik gave an impressed whistle. "Ho, ho! You and Eragon are moving fast, are you? Nasuada will be pleased to make a big event of it."

"No, no," she dismissed rapidly. "I mean can you explain what it is and what it entails."

Her words seemed to baffle Orik enough that he needed a few seconds to respond. "What? You mean you don't know?" Helena couldn't see his expression without straining herself in looking behind her, but she imagined his mouth hanging open. "Did your people not marry, like the elves?"

"We did have marriage, but I don't want to risk making any assumptions about what it means to the people of Alagaësia _._ And what do you mean, not marry like the elves? Are you saying that elves are the standard for how marriage works here?"

"Pfthuh," Orik puffed. "I mean that elves don't marry it all. Don't ask me why. I don't pretend to understand the minds of elves. Mind if I ask what brought this on?"

"Eragon has made his intentions towards me known," she said, feeling embarrassed as she admitted it.

"Ha! I should give him a pat on the back next time we land," Orik laughed.

"Be serious," she chided, annoyed.

"Alright, I'm sorry. But this is good, isn't it?" He sounded worried and she wondered if it was for her or Eragon's sake.

"I am not sure what I want, and I don't want Eragon to waste his time working for what might be an impossible goal."

"You do not find him suitable?"

"I said I don't know," she bit out. "But it's not just Eragon that is the problem." Helena knew that if she ever did decide to settle down with someone, she would pick someone nice and honorable like Eragon. "To commit myself to Eragon – and I remind you that it hasn't been two weeks yet since we kissed for the first time – that would also mean choosing to stay in Alagaësia _forever."_

"You still wish to go home," Orik said sympathetically.

"I want to see my friends again, but returning permanently carries its own bunch of problems. Godric would not be as free to move there as he is here." The magical world was still very controlling of magical creatures. There was nothing they took more seriously than protecting the Statute of Secrecy and Godric was a living breathing violation of it and would be restricted to the magical world. Helena didn't want to think so seriously of the future; she preferred to take everything one day at a time, but with Eragon's intentions revealed she couldn't ignore it entirely. "But we were talking about how marriage works in Alagaësia," she reminded the dwarf.

"Huh. Well I am not sure what to tell you, and I know there are a few subtle differences between what the dwarves and the humans of Alagaesia think. . . if all humans even think the same. There are more humans than there are of any other race, and I don't claim to know them all. Why don't you tell me what it was like back where you came from, and I can tell you if it is similar."

"Okay. Let me think about this." There wasn't an easy explanation and that was yet another difficulty she faced. Helena would have liked to blame the misunderstanding between Eragon and her on cultural differences, but it wasn't that simple. It had been 1998 when she left her home world and there were still people that saw sex as Eragon did, though that number was slowly decreasing. Not only that, but there were differences in the way the muggle world and the magical world did things. The magical world had enjoyed gender equality when it came to marriage for many centuries while in the muggle world, that development was only a few decades old, and custom lagged behind law. Her uncle Vernon had definitely been in charge of the Dursley household, by custom if not by law. The truth was that Helena didn't have many external influences when it came how to view sex and marriage. It just wasn't something that had often come up in conversation. She didn't know whether sex before marriage was frowned upon or not in the magical world. There also weren't many lasting couples in the magical world that didn't eventually formalize their union in marriage, but did that make it mandatory? She just didn't know a lot about this subject. Helena couldn't blame her behavior based on culture when she just did whatever felt right to her.

She let out a long sigh that was lost in the blowing of the wind. "This is really hard to explain."

"Let me help," Orik offered. "Was marriage always between a single man and a single woman?"

"Euhm. . . Usualy?"

Orik groaned, loudly.

"Same sex unions weren't forbidden or frowned upon. . . I think. . . but I can't really think of an example," Helena elaborated. The only magical she knew of that might have been gay was Dumbledore, and that was just a rumor.

"In _Alagaësia_ , those are heavily frowned upon. I don't think it is punishable by law, but you would have a hard time finding a priest to perform the ceremony. Though I suspect many wouldn't want to announce their. . . unique taste to the world, so they wouldn't want to go public."

"I see," Helena said neutrally. When Helena thought of herself as being physically intimate with another woman all she felt was a lowkey sense of revulsion, but to each their own. She would try not to judge.

"How about polygamy? Can a man have more than one wife?" Orik questioned next.

"That, I am fairly sure isn't done. Either in my own magical world or the muggle one."

"Magical world?"

Helena recalled that her otherworldly origin wasn't yet wildly known. She settled for explaining that were she came from, those who could use magic isolated themselves from the rest of society.

Orik seemed to accept that explanation without digging deeper into her origin. She should probably just tell him, but she didn't want to deal with that initial stage of disbelief right now.

"Anyway, I am sure polygamy was done some time in the past and is still done in some parts of the world, but I haven't encountered it where I live," she finished saying.

"There are still a few human tribes that practice it, but otherwise it is much the same here. For dwarves as well as the humans of the Varden. Now, who arranges the unions?"

Helena had to blink at that question. "We do?"

"The family as a whole?"

"No. The people getting married, of course."

"And neither the fathers nor the mothers have any say in this?" Incredulity crept into his voice.

"No more than the children choose to give them."

"Ah! Then that is the first major difference between us. Here – and I know it is the same for humans – the parents or guardians arrange marriages. Most listen to the children's preferences, but they can't get together unless both parents give their blessing. If the children ignore this, that is cause for a feud."

"What business is it of them to tell who they can or cannot marry," Helena scowled, disgusted. "Who knows better who we do and do not love than we ourselves."

"Love isn't everything," Orik pointed out. "The parents want what is best for their children and are generally wiser. Especially, as in the case of daughters, the parents have to take the livelihood of the potential husband into account. They do not want some vagabond or rogue with no prospects to seduce their daughters."

"It's their life," Helena argued. "What if the parents' ideal couple do not love each other."

"Like I said, the children's wishes are taken into account. Love isn't as easy as you think it is. You and Eragon have only just started a relationship. Simply put, you are both besotted with each other and neither of you is thinking clearly. You're both all lust, romance, and passion. That won't last forever. True love isn't something that just happens. You have to work for it. I hope you remember that when things aren't as perfect as you thought they were."

Helena made a soft snorting sound that was again swallowed up by the blowing wind. "Thing are hardly perfect right now, and I know perfectly well that lover's quarrels exist. I think we have already had two."

"Yet you still want to hold on to each other," Orik mused. "Then you're both on the right track," he complimented.

Helena tried to let the tension in her flow out of her body. It still looked like an archaic way of doing things, but that wasn't relevant.

"It's not like it matters; Eragon and I are both orphans."

"But isn't there anyone that can speak on your behalf? And don't you have a guardian somewhere?" Orik asked.

Helena briefly thought about her uncle Vernon trying to find what he would consider a suitable husband for her and shuddered. "No. I am a legal adult with all the freedom and responsibilities that entails– _should_ entail."

"Being an adult doesn't mean having to face the world alone," Orik tried to point out. "And you did swear an oath to Nasuada, so she could speak on your behalf. So could Hrothgar for that matter."

"Yet neither of them will try to arrange my wedding if they know what's good for them," she said in a low threating voice.

"I'll be sure to inform them," Orik assured her with a hint of amusement. "So just to be clear, where you come from, children do not need to ask for the blessing of the parents?"

"Not anymore, though a few still might out of respect I suppose. . . some of the stuffy nobles back home probably still do that."

"I see… well it seems strange and risky to me. The young must be allowed their follies so they can learn, but some mistakes you can't come back from."

That brought up another interesting topic. "Is divorce not a thing here?"

"Divorce?"

"An official end to a marriage."

"And your people can do this?" he sounded incredulous again.

"Not often," The only example she personally knew of were Merope Gaunt and Tom Riddle Sr, and that hardly counted. "But it is allowed."

"Barzul! No wonder you people can treat these things so carelessly. What's the point of even making a vow if breaking it is acceptable?"

"It's more complicated than that," she ventured carefully. "Things used to be stricter," at least in the muggle world. They didn't really cover this stuff in history of magic, so she couldn't be sure. "But I think this is better. Sometimes you just get it wrong. Leaving is better than living together in misery."

"And it would also mean that don't need to work on maintaining a relationship. No, you can just leave at the first sign of trouble."

"You're being unfair," she chided. "And sometimes you can't just talk something out, or compromise. What if the husba–" she swallowed the word. "What if one spouse abuses another?"

"This is why such things need oversight. So that you don't end up with someone like that."

Helena wished Orik could see her eye rolling. Her voice started dripping with sarcasm. "Yes, because obviously a girl's parents will know the boy she likes better than she does. And the boy's parents will of course be impartial enough to think him capable of ever hurting anyone."

"Alright, fair point," Orik deflated behind her. "This is not a pleasant topic of conversation."

"I like to pride myself on not flinching away from the darkness of the world. How else can we fight it?"

"I suppose," Orik conceded uncomfortably. "If it gets bad enough one can seek protection from a magistrate and if there is proof of wrongdoing seek reparations. In those cases, yes, a marriage can be annulled."

"And you don't think it's better to walk away before you reach that point?"

"I wouldn't damage to sanctity of marriage for those very rare cases." The conversation tattered off after that.

Helena briefly entertained the thought about asking his view on infidelity, just to see his reaction, but thought better of it. It wasn't like that wasn't frowned upon in her own world either.

Helena reflected that, while learning more about this world's backwards ways was interesting, none of this information was really helpful in determining what she should do in regards to Eragon. Because again, Eragon wasn't the real problem, committing to _Alagaësia_ for the rest of her life was.

As to Eragon's desire to one day have a child, possibly with her, that issue was intrinsically tied to the former. Even though Helena didn't have any negative feelings about bastards, she also believed that a child was just as strong a commitment as marriage was. In that, she and Eragon were in agreement. When Helena thought of the possibility of being a mother, she felt she would probably want that eventually, but felt no hurry about it whatsoever, especially in light of her extended lifespan. Helena thought it mad that while she could accept the responsibility of the fate of this world being thrust upon her with hardly a blink, the thought of being a parent made her feel like she was still just a little girl that wasn't anywhere near grown up enough to think of having children; yet it was so. Again, it was something she was very unsure about and hadn't given much thought to until the issue slammed into her face two days ago. For heaven's sake! Eragon was sixteen, and he was already thinking about children! Mad!

She knew she should probably just tell Eragon all of this this, but felt extremely reluctant to do so. Either he wouldn't mind the uncertainty, and then nothing would change, or she would lose him. Considering how Eragon's vision predicted a painful death for her in the future, she felt entitled to a little happiness in the meantime. Besides, he had already agreed to take it one day at the time, hadn't he? Still, she couldn't help but feel somewhat guilty for taking advantage of him like that.

Helena tried to distract herself by gazing down at the passing landscape. It was beautiful to be sure, with its wild untamed yellow and green fields stretching outwards in all directions, but it was also true that the more you saw something, the less wondrous it appeared. You could only stare in awe at a view for so long before it loses its luster.

Yesterday they had been following the Âz Ragni river as they flew North. Today they would reach the border of Du Weldenvarden. From there, Arya had told them they _could_ enter into safety of the forest and the elven territory and announce themselves to the border settlement of Ceris, which was the agreed upon travel route between the Varden and the elves. Alternatively, they could hug the forests edge and only enter when they came closer to their destination, Ellesméra.

Arya had insisted that queen Islanzadi, not mentioning that she was her mother, be among the first to know about Godric and Saphira's existence. This meant that they would need to keep themselves hidden and they couldn't just fly directly over Du Weldenvarden. In the interest of speed, Helena had voted to follow the forests edge instead. It would take them closer to the empire, yes, but they would still have part of the Hadarac Desert between them. Eragon, Saphira, and of course Godric had agreed with her, but Arya had warned them they would need to travel through wild forests, without a guide or path to help them. The risk of getting lost was real, and Arya also gave the impression that entering though the metaphorical backdoor would be rude.

Rudeness, Helena soon learned, was something elves took very, very seriously.

When the sun reached its zenith, Saphira, who was leading the way since she carried Arya, descended towards the ground and the rushing large river. Godric followed and Helena was glad of it; after nearly four hours of flying she had been yearning to stretch her legs. When Godric touched down, Helena took her more nimble husky form and rushed down the red scales and started running large circles through the large blades of grass by way of celebrating. She ran her nose over all the different wild plants and swatted away a rather miffed bee that took exception to her sniffing their flowers. In this form she also noticed the faint lingering sent of unknown humans in the area.

When she informed Arya of this, the elf seemed unsurprised. "You humans are prolific; you can be found nearly anywhere that isn't already claimed by dwarves or elves. And in this place, this river is the most reliable source of water for miles, so of course it attracts travelers and tribes, like those from which Ajihad hailed from. It doesn't matter. Our group is far too formidable for anyone to dare attack us. Anyone not sent specifically for that purpose that is."

"I thought we were trying to stay secret," Helena pointed out.

"From my people, yes, and Du Weldenvarden has closed its borders. We won't see any other elves until we reach Ceris. And on that note, it is best that I fly with you the rest of the day so I can instruct you on the proper customs."

"Again," she groaned, fearing more formal dinners and history lessons in the future.

Arya wasn't amused. "This will be much more extensive, I fear," she warned, "My people value respect and politeness highly. Unless you wish to be thought either ignorant or insolent, you must learn this."

"And what about me," Orik, who had finally undone all the various safety measured that bound him to the saddle, showed up. "I was never told of any special rituals. I am representing my clan. If there are customs that one must know not to offend, then I must know them."

"Your willingness to show respect does you credit, Orik, but Helena and Eragon are riders. They will be held to a much higher standard than you."

"But what about the standards to which I hold myself?"

An edge crept into the elf's voices. "Eragon will be able to teach you in the coming hours, if you must. I, however, must make sure that Helena understands the gravity of making a good impression."

Helena reminded herself that, more than any other race, she needed the elves' cooperation. "I will do my best." There was something that Helena had considered on the long morning flight here. "Arya. . . do you consider Eragon a friend." Orik looked curiously between the two women.

The elf tensed as if suspecting a trap. "I fought alongside him, and he played a part in my rescue. He is a decent young man and I give him the respect due a Rider. As I do with you."

Helena decided to count that as a _'yes'._ "If you consider his friendship important, then you must tell him who you are."

"He knows my mundane name," Arya said.

"You know what I mean," Helena pressed, followed by a muttered "I wish I did" from Orik.

"It doesn't matter. My–" Arya paused and leveled a look at Orik.

Orik shook his head in exasperation and turned away from the conversation.

Arya looked back towards Helena when the dwarf was judged out of earshot. "My relation to Islanzadi doesn't define who I am; I am my own woman."

"It will matter to Eragon. Unless you are ashamed, you should warn him before he finds out; which he inevitably will."

" _This_ is the kind of rudeness that I hope you will curb when we enter my home, Helena."

Helena's head tilted slightly backwards, and pursed her lips. "Please explain how what I said can constituted as rude."

"You accuse me of feeling ashamed for or of my mother if I don't tell people about it. It just doesn't matter. It is completely irrelevant and it doesn't deserve to be deliberately brought up as if it was."

To Helena it sounded precisely like Arya was ashamed of her mother, but decided against pushing further.

Eragon finally joined them after he finished filling a small cauldron with the river's water. "Good luck with etiquette lessons, Helena. Neither the dwarves nor the Varden required us to be half so. . ." he shot a nervous look at Arya. "well-prepared." Arya seemed amused at his careful whining.

Helena felt herself grow cold at receiving yet another warning. If the elves were as old fashioned as the dwarves or humans, she knew she'd have trouble holding her tongue.

"I thought Saphira didn't want anyone but Arya as an extra passenger," Helena commented as she pulled out some of the provisions they had been given.

 _'Needs be what needs must,'_ was all Saphira had to say on the matter. She was using her fire breath to boil the water Eragon brought so they would have something safe drink. Arya soon found a small relatively clean and dry place to sit on, but Helena chose to eat while walking around.

"I'll be sitting in the saddle for the next five hours after this, so I want to enjoy stretching my legs while I can," she said when Eragon questioned her. This prompted him to join her, dry loaf of bread in hand. Orik still had some leftover boar from the feast two days ago and Arya had a fruity jam along with the same bread Helena and Eragon had. Both dwarf and elf had offered to share before the Riders left, but eating that while walking would be unhandy.

"I have been talking to Arya," Eragon said as they walked over an open field of grass and daisies. If Eragon wasn't with her, Helena knew she would be in dog form to better enjoy it.

"What about?" she asked obligingly.

"She told me that prophecies do not have to come true." He placed a strong emphasizes and punctuation on all the words, and he smiled at her as if he had already prevented her death.

Helena didn't feel impressed. "I know that Eragon. I told you about Trelawney, didn't I? The vast majority of her foretellings were just bogus."

"But those weren't true foretellings," he dismissed with a lazy backhanded wave. "Arya told me the story of a man who was prophesized to kill his own son."

"Most stories that begin that way have them make a plan to keep father and son far away from each other. This would then end up estranging them and eventually bring them together anyway, neither knowing who the other is. Somehow, they would still end up killing each other and the very act to prevent it ended up facilitating it. That's usually how it goes."

"Ah, but this time something else happened," Eragon said, and his smile dimmed. "Alright I know this sounds stupid, but listen. The father of this story simply killed himself, and so the prophecy failed."

Helena gave her beau an incredulous look. "You are right. That does sound stupid.

"I know that that isn't a happy ending and it should never be a solution, but still. It's a proof of concept."

"True," she allowed. "And before you told me, I actually thought that true prophecies really were inevitable. I guess the story is somewhat reassuring… in a morbid and strange way." At first Helena had simply dismissed the man from the story as an idiot, but as she gave it a second thought she developed an odd respect for him. How many would go that far to defy fate? Helena's previous view of true prophecies was that they were simultaneously infallible and completely useless. This story implied something else. "It doesn't really help us though," she said carefully, not wanting to dismiss Eragon's hopes and efforts. "I suppose I could ensure my safety by running away. . . for a time at least, but you know I can't do that." Helena believed that prophecies took the nature of their subjects into consideration. In other words: there was a prophecy that she would beat Voldemort because she wanted to stop Voldemort. Not: there was a prophecy and therefore she wanted to beat Voldemort. Helena's nature wouldn't allow her to run away from the conflict with Galbatorix, hence, the prophecy of her dying.

"Yes, I know. It's not much," Eragon admitted, looking away and rubbing his neck in embarrassment. "I'd just thought you would like to know. Nothing is inevitable."

"Nothing is inevitable," she slowly repeated to herself, "That is good to know." Nothing in her situation had changed, yet this story about a man committing suicide to falsify and not just circumvent a prophecy was oddly inspiring. It shouldn't be, but it was. Helena found herself smiling and turned to Eragon. "Thank you."

He mumbled a humble 'it's nothing' and Helena felt a warm feeling settle in her stomach and found herself once again contemplating her good fortune in meeting this young man. It seemed like half of his time was spend trying to make her feel better. She thought about kissing him again, but this felt like such a sweet and tender moment that she didn't want to ruin it by bringing lust into the picture. She grabbed his hand and snuggled up to his side instead. "Let's just go a little farther before turning back," she beamed at him. He returned the expression and she allowed him to lead her by her hand on a small, slow, half hour walk through the wild rocky grasslands. It wasn't a particularly sunny day, the son only occasionally peeking through the clouds, but it was dry and the wind was calm.

When they made their way back towards Arya and Orik, the former gave them an unimpressed look but didn't vocalize her impatience beyond a, "there you are."

Helena didn't feel very hurried herself, but she made no objections. "Until later," "See ye," Eragon and Helena told each other respectively before returning to their dragons. Arya went to make a quick show of respect to Godric before joining Helena. Something the ruby dragon acknowledged with lordly indifference.

When they were back at a stable altitude, Arya began her lecture on the various forms of address she was expected to use when speaking to elves. The forms of address varied from man to woman, adults to children, boys to girls, as well as by rank and prestige. Furthermore, there was a standard ritual for meeting another elf for the first time. When Arya was convinced that Helena understood the necessities, she moved on to what she called 'a basic cultural understanding'.

"My people have great respect for all forms of life, so it's essential that you do not inflict needless suffering."

"Just what do you take me for? Do I give the impression that I like hurting animals?"

Arya ignored her. "We also try very hard to avoid conflict with each other, and do not accuse each other lightly of even the smallest infractions. When you wish to bring up someone's mistake, this must be done with the utmost delicacy and care. Ideally, you would be humble enough to imply that you yourself might be in the wrong. The words, 'unless I am mistaken,' or 'forgive me – and here you use a respectful form of address – but . . .' and so on."

"Like walking on eggshells," Helena muttered.

"My people hold truth very highly and also do not like humor when it is at someone else expense. Humans often use sarcasm. There is nothing wrong with that in principle, but you must be sure it isn't biting or mocking someone when you use it."

"What do elves see the humor in?" Helena asked, now seriously reconsidering her eagerness to meet this faction.

"A good question," Helena thought she could detect some self-deprecating humor in the elf's tone. "Mostly we laugh at all thing we consider absurd. These rules also aren't as restrictive when you are among those you trust implicitly. For you though, it is best not to take risks."

"Forgive me, Arya Svit-Kona," Helena used one of the forms of address for a woman of great wisdom to show she had been paying attention to the lessons. "But I find that the picture you have painted of your people doesn't match with what little I know of you. Do you adjust yourself for our sakes?"

"I have been away for a long time. For good or ill, what you see of me is what feels normal to me."

"Well," Helena tried to keep her voice as chipper and lighthearted as possible. "Whatever anyone else may think of you, I think the person you are now is someone to be proud of."

"I am surprised to hear you say that," Arya murmured with a hint of theatrical astonishment. "We disagree quit vehemently on certain topics. I still think you made a large mistake when you shared the secrets of the Riders with Triana."

In the interest of getting along, Helena didn't restart that particular argument, despite her annoyance. "I remember the memory I saw in your mind when you were poisoned. I know what that tattoo on your shoulder means. You gave up on an easy life to help your people, and in so doing helped many others. No matter our differences, I can't dislike a person that does that."

"Because it is something we have in common?" Arya prodded.

"Not really," Helena hesitated, "You took up a noble duty. What I do doesn't really feel like duty. It just feels. . . right."

"Just because you enjoy it doesn't make it less of a duty."

"It's different," Helena insisted. "You swore an oath."

"As did you when you swore to Nasuada," Arya reminded her.

"Not for forever. But alright, fair point," Helena conceded. "I don't know. It just feels different."

Arya was silent behind her on the saddle for what felt like a minute. "You think with your heart," the elf eventually said.

"Yes," Helena agreed at once, not feeling ashamed in the slightest. "I try to use my head, of course, since acting without thinking can cause more problems, but that is not were my strength lies."

Another pause followed. "I wish you luck," was all Arya said before falling into a longer more permanent silence.

 _It sounds like she thinks me a fool, but is too polite to say anything,_ Helena thought sardonically. Oh well. People had called her wrong before; it was nothing new.

"What of Godric?" Helena asked, feeling her partner's attention peak at his name. He didn't care much for the elven customs, and so hadn't been paying much attention before now. "Will he need to obey the same social rules as I do."

"My people have a great respect for dragons," Arya said. "We do not expect them to be bound by our laws and customs." _Unlike their Riders,_ Helena thought.

 _'This will be great.'_ If he was human, Helena imagined Godric smirking.

"As long as you don't intentionally try to antagonize anyone without good cause, he should be fine," Arya responded with a hint of caution, probably fearing that Godric would take advantage of such leeway. _Probably for good reasons,_ Helena mused with amusement.

 _'Good cause, hmm,'_ Helena commented to her scaly partner, returning his own mischievous urgings with her own. _'That is an awful lot of wiggle room.'_

'Indeed.'

Helena felt a tension she didn't know she had leave her. Between the two of them, Godric had definitely gotten the short end of stick since joining the Varden. Perhaps being considered the more important soul of the two by the elves would end up calming him somewhat.

The first sign of Du Weldenvarden was a great green line on the horizon. It was like watching the ocean, only made of leaves instead of water.

"I have another concern," Arya said as they neared the point where they would need to land. "When the watchers at Ceris meet you, they will want to know where you and Godric came from. What do you intend to tell them?"

"The truth?" Helena half answered half suggested. "I do want their help in researching my arrival here."

"They are unlikely to know much about that," Arya cautioned. "We have many scholars that would be eager to help, but you won't find them in Ceris, and we can't afford to seek them out before meeting Islanzadi."

"Remind me again why that – meeting the queen before anyone else – is so important?"

"The return of the riders represents a great and terrible change for our kingdom. The queen must be the first to meet with you. Only she has the authority and wisdom to oversee this transition. Just like Ajihad had to be the first to greet you when you arrived at Farthen Dûr."

 _For someone that doesn't want to acknowledge her relation to her mother, Arya does speak highly of her,_ Helena mused.

"Is there any doubt about what your mother will do? I mean she _has_ to help us." Helena really didn't want to spend any time trying to convince this ruler to do what she should have been doing from the beginning. Arya may praise her wisdom, but Islanzadi had apparently closed her borders as soon as news Arya's disappearance reached her. Helena found it hard to have faith in someone that did that.

"I have no doubt she will do whatever is in her power to defeat Galbatorix now that we have a fighting chance again," Arya stated. She even sounded sure.

 _Ah, yes, it's personal._

"There is no hurry. I will seek out your scholars on my own time." Again, Helena found her own lack of urgency odd. She should feel more homesick than she was. She figured that she didn't want to tempt Ron and Hermione into joining her on her current quest in the event she succeeded in contacting them. They had spent enough time fighting for their lives already.

Of course, Helena wasn't the only one that Arya needed to convince. "The same principle applies to you, Godric. I understand you kept yourself hidden while you were in the empire, so I hope you can do so again."

Godric's mind scrutinized his rider to see if she would overrule his decision if they didn't agree. With a mental shrug Helena made it clear that she didn't care enough to make an issue of it. As much as the elves may care about strict curtesy, Helena didn't, and that was all this was to her. Arya made it clear that Godric wasn't bound by the same rules and Helena didn't see any real harm from anyone seeing them before the queen.

 _'I hate it when I need to hide. I hated it in the empire and I hate it now,'_ Godric complained.

"Saphira said much the same thing when I asked her,"Arya said. "It is only for a short while, and you did it before when we met the dwarves in Tarnac?" Her tone made it a question of why it was a problem now and not then.

 _'I was hardly separated at that time. I was underwater. I needed to make sure that they didn't see me, that didn't require me to be miles away.'_

"If you just want to be close to Helena, that isn't a problem," Arya reassured him. "We will all need be out of sight together. My worry is you wandering off and being spotted by someone."

Godric seemed to be considering this. _'And once we reach Ellesmera?'_

"Then I have no doubt you can both explore the land to your hearts content," Arya paused. "As far as you will have time for such things. I suspect your training will take up much of your time." Another pause. "Please land before the tree line. The enchantments that permeate the forest will make you crash if you try to fly over them."

Godric slowly started to glide towards the ground, making some long turns to make the descent smoother for his passengers. Saphira trailed behind him, cheekily staying in the 'kill zone' that she always tried to reach in their games of tag.

Because of how wild and untamed these lands were, the forests edge wasn't a small clear line but rather a long transition zone that was almost half a mile long. Young small trees and rosebushes dotted the area. A couple of small birds decided to make themselves scarce at the presents of the two dragons and chirped away.

Helena breathed in deeply through her nose and noticed the pleasant smell of the earth and plants that permeated the ear. "Is it okay if I transform here?" she asked the elf behind her.

"It's not a problem if the sentinels at Ceris notice your strange magic," Arya said by way of answer. "It would be impossible for them to accompany us without noticing something strange about you. I warn you though, it won't be long until we meet the sentinels – they will undoubtedly have already noticed our presence – and you will have to introduce yourself. Just leave all the initial explanations to me."

Immensely pleased, Helena left her humanly worries behind her and reveled in the instinctual pleasure of her canine senses. Just like the last time they landed, the open area felt wonderful, but now she was even confronted with a huge strange forest, ripe for exploring! Unlike normal hounds that explore alone, she didn't need to fear any reprisal from stronger animals or larger packs. No mere animal could best her if she decided to revert back and use magic. Only the annoyance of having to resist the urge to mark this new territory with urine tempered her jolly mood.

"There is something very peculiar about looking at an animal and thinking: 'yes, that is the woman that interests me," Eragon grumbled as she trotted up towards the rest of her group after running about the place. Orik guffawed at Eragon's consternated expression.

"Woof," Husky-Helena woofed teasingly, somehow.

"I have heard of stranger things," Arya noted amusingly. Helena briefly thought about reverting back, just so she could ask what those stranger things were. Arya started marching deeper into the forest, waving for them all to follow and the moment passed.

Just like Arya said, they didn't need to travel for long before they reached Ceris. After only half a mile, Arya stopped their party with a raised hand. Then she began to speak words in the ancient language with her raised but no less smooth voice. Helena could understand that Arya introduced herself and that they meant no harm, but many of the other words were beyond her. The doggyfied witch was also surprised she hadn't smelled the elves if they were really that close by. The calm wind flowed from the front so she should have had ample warning. After meeting Arya, she thought knew what elves smelled like.

The response from the sentinels was so long incoming that Helena began to think that maybe they weren't there at all. Maybe there was some magic that allowed them to hear and observe what happened in this area and they had to walk all the way over here so they could talk? When the response finally came, it was in the ancient language and spoken so quickly that Helena couldn't make hide nor tail of it. She suspected that even if she had spent more time learning the language, it wouldn't have made much of a difference. It was like a student who had thus far only studied a foreign language in a class first encountering that language being spoken by a native; which Helena supposed wasn't that far off. The sound also seemed to come from all directions at once.

It must have been a question though, since Arya responded with "I do."

One moment there was nothing and the next four elves simply appeared out of nowhere. They could have been invisible up to now, used some magical transportation, or were simply that good at hiding but the result was the same. Two were on the ground, standing a cautions distance away from Helena and her group, spears pointing in their direction. The other two were each in a different tree, pointing at them with their drawn bows.

From this distance, Helena could finally smell the elves, or rather understand it since she realized the scent had been there all along. It was simply that all the elves didn't smell like Arya at all. In fact, none of the elves including Arya, smelled even vaguely alike. Whereas Arya smelled like fresh pine needles, the other two elves on the ground smelled like jasmine and some other flower that Helena couldn't place. The two elves in the trees broke the flora motif and smelled like a beaver and honey bees respectively. None of those smells were that out of place in a forest with a river close by so Helena hadn't played attention to them. Arya at least still secreted some vaguely humanish scent. Sure, it differ greatly from any human as one would expect from a different race, but it was still undeniably there under the smell of fresh pines. The other elves didn't have even that. There was nothing except that very specific obviously-self-chosen smell, like a perfume. Helena strained her enhanced olfactory sense as far as she could until she finally detected the faintest trace of something that might belong to a mammal's skin's natural secretion. It was so faint that there was no way Helena would be able to use it to identify individuals or discern their emotional state as she had always been able to do before. It was the kind of anomaly of the natural order that Helena immediately associated with magical meddling.

So focused was she on the strange scents that Helena didn't notice that introductions were underway until Arya prodded her furry sides with a light kick. Helena swiftly flowed back into her human form, already with two fingers pressed to her lips as Arya had instructed, a gesture that was meant to show she wouldn't obfuscate the truth. She also presented the gedwëy ignasia with her other hand as prove of what she was. "Eka fricai un Shur'tugal," she said next, also as Arya had instructed. 'I am a Rider and a friend,' was the meaning of the words. When Arya had told her to do this, Helena had objected that she couldn't consider strangers she had just met friends. Arya had then told her to consider 'friend' in a more military sense as she said it, like those that are friendlies or hostiles. It wasn't lost on Helena that after making a gesture to symbolize not obscuring the truth, that was literally the first thing she did.

The four elves all looked mildly surprised and impressed at her transformation, but not truly shocked as had become the norm. Arya had told her once that some elves could alter their bodies into animal forms so the surprise probably came from that fact she was capable of it and not the ability itself.

The four elves reciprocated by pressed their fingers to their lips, shooting a quick reassuring smile back at Helena along with a murmured reply, and then proceeded to ignore her in favor of Saphria, Godric, and Arya.

Helena had to blink at their sudden shift in demeanor. One moment they were guardedly polite, the next they skipped – actually skipped! – all the way to their group, covering ten feet with every 'small' jump. Their previously serious looks were replaced by something that wouldn't be out of place on a small child during the best birthday of his life. Arya was dragged off, being bombarded by rapid Ancient Language that Helena couldn't hope to follow. From that moment on Helena decided she would simply refer to the Ancient Language when not used for magic as Elvish.

Helena had thought that these elves would have nothing in common with the house elves from back home, but when they started to dance around Arya, holding each other's hands as they surrounded her, laughing, it looked like they could be just as overdramatic. Helena couldn't help but smile at the sight. Eragon was staring as well, mesmerized.

Orik must have read something of her thoughts on her face because he tugged on her robes to draw attention. "Don't be fooled," he hissed. "These are ancient beings a good deal smarter than any of us. All they say, all that they do, is intentional."

Somewhat perturbed, Helena looked back at the elves that were unsuccessfully trying to draw a rather exasperated Arya into their merriment. Squinting emerald eyes took in the faces that seemed to radiate innocence and joy. Could and did they really just _decide_ to look like that? If so, how can you ever trust their expressions?

As the elves started to fawn over Saphira and Godric, Helena turned to Eragon. After a moment, he noticed her staring and met her eyes. "What?" he asked.

"There is a lot magic in this race." Helena returned her gaze to the elves. Three had silver white hair, like a Veela's, the other's was a pure luscious black like Arya's own.

"Saphira agrees, more than in either humans or dwarves. . . well normal humans," Eragon murmured, Helena's gaze drifted back to his. "You must feel at home."

"You would be surprised," Helena lifted her brows in a wry expression that implied dubiousness. Helena was starting to feel rather intimidated and was hoping Eragon would empathize.

It seemed that the elves were done offering a much more lengthy greeting to the dragons. "Come, we can talk more in the camp," one of the silver haired elves called as the sentinels moved back into the forest. With their long tunics covering their feet it almost looked like they were floating.

Arya gave the none-elves a small assuring smile. "So long as you think before you speak, you are safer now than you have been since you found your eggs." She motioned to follow.

Helena tried to take those words to heart and relax her shoulders. She had spent so long being one of if not the most magically mysterious being around, both for her power and origins, that meeting a race that could out-fairytale her was a little jarring. The eighteen year old also feared she wouldn't be able to connect to any of the centuries year old elves she met. Arya was bad enough and by her own admission already acted more 'human', than was the norm for her race.

Helena made sure to stick close to Eragon's side during the short walk to Ceris, knowing that having someone of her own age around would make her stay here much more pleasant. And that was without taking their romantic interests into account.

The woodland's edge soon made way for the forest proper, with a canopy of branches and leaves so thick that they cast them all in shadow. There was no established path, so they were left to stumble across the mossy floor.

Helena noticed something unnatural about the forest, but it took her a few minutes to put her finger on it. There were simply not enough fallen leaves on the ground. During this time of year the ground should be absolutely littered with them, but it wasn't. She wondered if the elves used magic to keep the winter out, but there was no way to be sure. The temperature was a lot milder here than would be expected for the beginning of March. Still, this could just be an unusually pleasant day for the season.

Knowing that there were at least some enchantments around the forests, Helena tried to strain her senses for any possible magics around her to no avail. Feeling active spells was one thing, but this was something far more subtle.

After about a half hour of walking to the soundtrack of dozens of birds singing their songs, they arrived at Ceris. It appeared that the four elves were the only inhabitants and Ceris really was nothing more than a small lookout. One oak rose above the others and had a small roofed platform from which they had no doubt seen the dragon's approach the forest. The platform was surrounded by a camouflage of hanging plants and growing moss, which had probably prevented Godric from spotting it before. At the base of the oak stood three huts which Helena was disappointed they weren't invited into. Instead they were herded to a small clearing that had several woody stools surrounding an empty fire pit. Upon closer inspections Helena noticed that the chairs were in fact miniatures trees that had grown into unnatural shapes. The tip of Helena's recently pointed ears poked some of the leaves that hung from small twigs that had been allowed to grow from the back of the living chair. The young woman looked at the huts, wondering if they too were made of living plants, but they looked to be extraordinarily ordinary.

"Thank you for your hospitality," Orik said politely as he too sat down. "May we know your names?"

That caused a brief ripple of laughter among the elves for some reason, but the black haired one answered, pointing to himself. "I am Lifaen of House Rílvenar. And my companions are Edurna, Celdin, and Narí." Helena did her best remember the names and to whom they belonged. Just like Arya, they all had angular aristocratic features that could easily become haughty but weren't right now due to their friendly demeanor that Helena still wasn't sure was genuine.

"I will get you all something eat, after which you can tell your tale," Lifaen said before going into one of the huts. Meanwhile, Narí proceeded to light the fire pit using nothing but a stick and some dried leaves and grass. The meal they were presented with was – as Arya had warned – pure vegetarian, but not that bad despite that.

Eventually Helena found herself truly relaxing. The crackling and movement of the fire had a certain hypnotic quality to it. The four watchmen routinely went to a nearby stockpile of dry plants to keep it going.

"Forgive our prying Argetlam, but we are all burning with curiosity," Lifaen began once everyone except Orik had finished their fruity salads. The question was directed at Helena rather than Eragon; the one with the dragon that shouldn't be possible. Even after such a short time, it was obvious which dragon belonged to whom with the way they laid their heads near their Riders chairs. "How did another egg get rescued from Galbatorix's clutches."

"It wasn't. We have no idea where Godric's egg came from, but it isn't one of the remaining two that Galbatorix has."

Meaningful looks were exchanged between the four elves before turning back to her. "That transformation you performed showed a greater mastery of alteration magic than we thought your people capable of. Who was your master?"

Remembering Arya's instructions, Helena shot the princess a questioning look. "The answer to that question is even more interesting than you think," Arya answered for Helena. "I would prefer that the queen be the first to find out." She then said some words in fluid Elven that Helena suspected was meant to put the sentinels at ease. Again, Helena only understood a few words like 'shur'tugal,' and the common pronounce and the most common verbs.

Lifaen nodded deferentially at Arya before turning back to Helena. "We will not pry further; just know that we are overjoyed at finding another Rider beyond the one we hoped for, and your familiarity with magic is reassuring."

"Thank you vodhr Lifaen," Helena demurred. Humility was yet another thing Arya had encouraged in her lessons, so long as it didn't highlight a weakness. "I will try not to disappoint."

"And neither will I," Eragon chimed in

"That is all we can ask," he smiled reassuringly at them before turning his attention at Saphira and Godric. "May we enquire into your journey that led you to us, Saphira and Godric. I know that there are some things you may not wish to tell, but we are all terribly curious."

Helena thought it was strange, though not in bad way, watching Godric do the majority of the speaking instead of doing it herself. Neither Saphira nor Godric were shy about sharing their adventures, though they refrained from giving away other people's secrets. Murtagh's role in all the events was edited out, leading to some minor inconsistencies that none of the elves called them out on. The four elves also asked more general questions about flying and navigating, questions that spoke directly to their ancestral memories. And the dragons gave answers that Helena didn't even know they knew. Helena learned more about the habitats, behavior and qualities of the flora and fauna of _Alagaësia_ by listening to conversation between the elves and the dragons than she had learned over the months she had spent here before.

Usually when Saphira needed to say something, she allowed Eragon to speak her words since dragons could only speak directly into someone's mind, since few people had the mental ability to guard the parts of their minds they wanted private. The elves either didn't mind letting some secrets leak or were confident in their ability to guards their thoughts since they allowed the dragon's into their mind without reservation. They even seemed to revel in the presence of the dragons' minds with the way they leaned back in their plant chairs with nearly closed eyes and contented smiles. Helena believed it might have something to do with the close connection the two races shared. Back in the Hadarac Desert, Godric had told her that something in his blood told him the elven race as whole could be trusted.

Unlike Saphira, Godric normally spoke for himself directly, not caring about someone else's privacy, but he did so only seldom and always for very brief amounts of time. It was rude of him to be sure, but Helena couldn't bring herself to so blatantly step on his freedom as to say when he could or couldn't speak.

The obvious pleasure Godric seemed to get from having the elves hang on his every word echoed in Helena's own mind and she allowed the foreign feelings to wash over her as her gaze fell into the dancing flames of the fire pit. For her own amusement, she tried to guide the fire with her finger, occasionally letting them take impossible shapes to company the tales the dragons told. At one point she even had a bunch of minute fiery Urgals fighting equally tiny humans and dwarves. Again, this wasn't something that the elves treated as something outlandish. Helena eventually reached a pleasant trance like state in which the time didn't exactly fly by, but she wasn't bothered by the lack of activity. She simply observed as the sun's light dimmed, shadows lengthened, and more material was consumed to keep the fire going.

When the dragons' tale finally reached the present and the sun had finally set, one of the silver haired elves, Narí, promptly burst into a slow rhythmic song.

Oh how long has been, since I could close my eyes and see our land consumed in flame.

This like the warmth on my skin, allows my kin to rest my head without shame

Rejoice my friends and let your despair go.

For a scion of our own has brought deliverance from the shadow.

A promise, a dream, has now reached us from over the Edda's water stream.

Were one would struggle, now two will fight and together they will restore peace and end this blight.

Two skulblaka, ruby red and sapphire blue.

They now roam among our land, and bring home our child, long overdue.

A great evil tried to claim her, but her sword was a blur. Stone shattered and broke, yet a girl's doth saved them through the magic she spoke.

Evil spirits once great fright, have been thwarted by bonds of friendship that I see glow under the moonlight.

And now the forest will laugh with joy.

All life will celebrate, our new heroes, this girl and this boy.

The wind is soft; the river deep.

The trees are tall; the birds do sleep!

Laugh at woe and laugh at foe.

The hour has arrived for happiness to reap!

"That was beautiful, Narí-vodhr," Eragon complimented.

Helena had to agree; Nari had a lovely singing voice. "Did you really make that up just now?"

"It was but a rough composition Argetlam," Narí said humbly and then continued not so humbly with a short laugh. "If it was beautiful, then it came from my voice alone. All it takes is some basic rhymes and anything resembling a rhythm and something can be easily improvised. I guarantee that I can compose something much better before our journey is through."

"Then you will accompany us?" Arya asked.

"Two of us will," Lifaen answered. "Me and Narí."

"We would love to go to," Celdin said as he gestured to Edurna. "But will need stay here so that none can follow you, and it would look suspicious if we all went."

Lifaen and Narí inclined their heads in thanks towards those that volunteered out of the journey.

Though it was early still, the sun had set and it was decided that they would leave the next morning before the dawn. After the elves – excluding Arya – had cleaned up their huts to make it suitable for guests, they were made available for the night. Orik and Eragon sharing one hut, Arya and Helena another. The four elves would probably fit into the remaining one, but since they stayed awake longer and nobody asked, there was no way to tell.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The next morning, with only the barest glimpse of light scattering across the dark sky, Helena found herself at the Edda River, two canoes tied towards a broken trees trump. Apparently, all the preparations had already been made by Lifaen and Narí during the night. Celdin and Edurna were already gone by time they woke up, apparently back at their post and being stealthy as they were. Helena wondered if they even needed sleep.

Privately, Helena thought there had to be an easier and faster way for them to travel than by canoe, particularly given the amount of spellcasters they had. Helena was confident she could at least get the canoe to row itself, but it might be fun to do it the muggle way for a while, until it became tiresome.

As Helena was pulling Eragon along to make sure they had one of the canoes for themselves, Narí called to them, "Have you ever steered a canoe before?"

Helena hadn't but. . . "How difficult can it be?"

Narí chuckled. "It isn't difficult, but perhaps I should accompany you all the same. Just for the first few miles."

"I suppose," she conceded reluctantly. Trying to find out how to row a small boat with only Eragon could, if you squinted, have be considered a romantic outing, but only if they did it alone. Helena climbed in first, deciding that it was best that they entered in the order of size, allowing the ones at the back to look over the other's heads. As Helena climbed and seated herself at the front, she though the canoe looked surprisingly modern. Not in the way of materials, but in the way the wood was perfectly streamlined. It also didn't have a speck or tear in it, as if it was all still brand new. For all she knew, it was. Behind her, Eragon was asking if the elves made all their boats like that.

"All but the largest," Narí answered. "For those, we sing the finest cedar and oak into shape."

"Sing into shape?" Eragon asked further.

"Patience, Eragon finiarel," Narí halted him with a raised hand and a fond smile. "Let us be on our way first." Orik, Lifaen, and Arya were already floating on the water and waiting in the second canoe.

Once Eragon was seated behind her, his feet resting on either side of her thighs, Narí untied the canoe and pressed it into the river, jumping into it once they were no longer touching the shore. The impact of the elf's leap sent the small boat shaking left and right. United in their fear of capsizing, both Helena and Eragon hurriedly put their hands to the railing and tried to restore balance. Winter may be slowly releasing its hold on the land, but they still didn't fancy taking a swim. Thankfully the shaking quickly stopped. Helena strained her neck to look behind her to find Narí silently laughing at them with his eyes before explaining what was expected of them.

As Narí had said, it really wasn't difficult. They just had to make sure that together they paddled just as hard on the left as on the right side. It took some trial and error, but eventually they found a rhythm that worked. Basically, both Eragon and Helena would paddle on one side while Narí took the other. The elf, of course, had no problem working the equivalent of two normal people. It was made even easier since they were moving with the river's current.

"So, what did you mean when said you sung trees into shape?" Eragon asked again once they no longer needed to give the canoe their full attention.

Their silver haired companion took a few seconds before responding. "Plants, like all living things require energy to grow. It is possible to use magic to speed up this process and to decide in what shape the plant grows. For small projects, like the chair you sat on back in Ceris, a single person is often enough to guide the plant. For larger projects however, many spellcasters come together and sing their magic together and achieve what would take a single person years to accomplish."

"Does cooperative magic go more smoothly when you sing the spells?" Eragon continued to ask.

"No," Narí said.

"Then why do you sing your spells?"

"Why does anyone sing anything?" Narí returned, amused.

Eragon didn't respond for a while. "I suppose. . . but isn't magic dangerous enough without having to turn it into music."

"It is, if you don't know what you are doing, so don't try it without studying it first. The songs we use are well tested and old. Only rarely is someone ambitious enough to make their own song to cast magic."

"If you can make plants grow faster, then does that mean you can have an endless harvest?"

"It is not that simple. The energy you expend trying to make something edible grow faster would be greater than the energy you can recuperate by eating it. Making something grow is a costly affair, hence why it often takes more than one person." Again, that pause during which Helena suspected the elf was debating how much he wanted to share. "That said, we have other ways to make sure we never go hungry."

"Such as?" Eragon pressed. Helena couldn't help but smile at his obstinacy.

"You will find out in time," Narí deflected as Helena suspected he would. Eragon didn't press his luck further by asking more.

Having looked at the map, Helena knew that the Edda River first moved slightly eastward, beyond the forests borders, until it flowed into Eldor Lake. At the end of the lake a new river called the Gaena River would then bring them east near the city of Sílthrim, the first proper elven city, which Helena already knew they wouldn't be allowed to visit as they passed by.

As Helena didn't have an easy way to tell how much time had passed, she didn't know how long it took for her to get bored of rowing exactly, but she guessed it had to be at least two hours. "Alright, I have an idea." She said, stopping the motions of her flat ended pole, which forced Eragon and Narí to pause as well unless they wanted to turn the craft. Helena put her marked hand against the smooth wood and whispered, "Mobili." The small boat started to move forward on its own, much more smoothly than when they had been doing it the muggle way. Feeling somewhat smug, Helena made a show of stretching her arms and back with loud a relieved sigh and leaned comfortably against the railing. The imbalance of her weight should have dangerously overbalanced the small craft, but it continued onwards in its smooth movement, perfectly stable. Looking sideways, Helena noticed that Eragon had copied her and was now leaning against the other side at an angle were the two lovers could easily look at each other.

Narí on the other hand was frowning at her. Helena blinked at the show of disapproval and tried to think of a reason for it. Helena looked backwards and found the passengers of the second canoe in their procession returning her gaze. "I can spell the other boat too, of course!" she offered, loud enough that her voice carried itself to Arya, Orik, and Lifaen.

"If it's no problem for you, I would appreciate it!" Orik returned.

Lifaen watched her impassively and Arya was rubbing her temples.

 _What am I doing wrong?_ Helena thought in dismay. Arya had said that it wasn't a problem if the elves saw her magic, so that couldn't be it, could it?

None of the elves objected, however, so she complied with Orik's request and soon both vessels were floating along the river without aid. Resolving to just ask Arya once she could get the princess alone, Helena put the elves' strange behavior out of her mind and simply enjoyed the passing scenery.

If there was one thing that this archaic world had going for it that her more modern world didn't, especially the muggle one, it was the abundance of wildlife. Helena stared with interest as a large hurdle of deer galloped across the plains to her right and when a small hare scurried behind the trees to her left. Soon, Eragon began to tell small anecdotes about similar animals that lived in the spine. Helena had already heard most of exciting stories about Eragon's own hunting quests to feed his family, but now he told tales that others had told him. Eragon was hardly the only one in Carvahall that partook in that particular pastime, though he was the only one that dared go into the Spine. Helena was tempted to compare the mundane creatures they spotted to the more magical beasts that she was familiar with, but feared that it would prompt too many questions from Narí. Not that Eragon wouldn't ask questions himself, but Helena didn't mind those.

Narí's frown had long since disappeared and he gladly expunged on the behavior of all the various animals that they saw. Though his tales were less personal and more academic in nature, like migratory habits for example. Helena wasn't terribly interested in all of that, but the elf did have a very nice voice to listen to.

When Helena grew tired of that, she called Godric and spent the time in a magical underwater air bubble as they panicked all the fish and enjoyed exploring a world that wasn't meant for them, as they had done before in Leona Lake. By that time they had already reached Elador Lake. Sadly, they didn't find any long-forgotten treasures at the bottom of the lake, nor could Eragon join them with Saphira. Making a second air bubble apart from her own was still beyond Helena, and keeping the water at bay would be hellishly costly thing to do with Eragon's own magic. Saphira did however share her own draconic vision with Eragon when he got curious, so he wasn't entirely missing out.

When Helena emerged from the water it was time for midday break, and Narí and Lifaen were noticeably more curious about her powers than before. Helena knew this because they flat out told her so, but that they would keep respecting Arya's wishes anyway. They looked so innocently curious and sad that Helena was struck by an intense guilt for not telling them.

When Arya saw this, she quickly dragged the witch away from the other elves and told that for elves that had lived for many centuries like Narí and Lifaen, waiting a few weeks was no great torture.

Helena also took this opportunity to ask if she had blundered by charming the canoes.

Arya led out a great sigh. "No. You did nothing wrong."

"So I was imagining you rubbing your head like a teacher that witnesses a troublesome student being a troublesome student?"

"Again, you exaggerate," Arya chastised, though she was wearing a small smile. "But the fault was mine, if there was any fault at all. We elves like to pride ourselves on enjoying all the small things in life."

"So that's why –"

Arya stopped her with a raised hand. "When I speak about my people, I am often forced to fall back on generalities, but don't mistake that that is all we are. We are all as different from each other as humans are different from each other. I don't know why Narí looked displeased. Perhaps he enjoyed the simple exercise. Perhaps he thought _you_ should enjoy the simple exercise. Perhaps he thinks using magic for such a mundane chore is cheap. Perhaps he was simply frustrated that he didn't understand your magic. Or perhaps there was another reason altogether. For my part, I was simply thinking that you made both our escorts even more curious about you. It is no great tragedy if they discover anything, they are our allies after all, but Islanzadi needs to be debriefed first. Dangling bits of knowledge in front of them without giving the full picture will only serve to annoy them."

From then on, Helena promised herself she would cut back on the magic for a while, which was difficult since it was such a large part of what she was. She had been forced to go without magic before, like every time she went to the Dursleys, and had hated every moment of it. Even with that new resolution, she couldn't help but use her Mokeskin Pouch to get at all her stuff, which both Narí and Lifaen eyed hungrily once they understood what it was and did.

Over the coming days, as they flowed past Eldor Lake, Helena would grow to appreciate both male elves' presence. Both were great lovers of art, like music, and often spent hours trying out new lyrics at a speed that would envy most songwriters. Many of their songs and poems were about Saphira and Godric, whom the two elves would always try their best to draw into conversation. They were more successful than Helena expected since Godric was usually antisocial with anyone but her.

Another favorite pastime of the two elves was telling and listening to stories. Both Eragon and Helena enjoyed listening, but when they were asked if they knew any new tales, Eragon failed to impress. What few tales he knew came from Brom, and all were known to the elves.

"So much has been lost. No court ballads survive, and, if you speak truly, nor does most of your history or art, except for fanciful tales Galbatorix has allowed to thrive," Lifaen said sorrowfully. This time it was the black-haired elf that was accompanying them in their boat. Not that it mattered. The canoes now flowed so close together that the other could clearly hear them.

"I do know a few stories, but I am not sure you will like them," Helena confessed. "I was only really interested in stories when I was very young. So many of them might not be interesting to grownups."

"Why did you lose interest in reading?" Eragon asked. Helena supposed that for Eragon, for whom being able to read was still a novelty, it would sound strange. Not to mention that he knew that most stories in her world were no longer just passed along by mouth.

"There was no need for it anymore," Helena answered. "As you know, I didn't like my aunt and uncle – with whom I grew up," she added for the benefit who didn't yet know. "And I didn't have any close friends and so I sought escape in worlds not my own - In fairy tales. I loved those stories." Of course, once it became clear that she liked those stories, Uncle Vernon tried his best to keep them from her. She couldn't just go to the library since it was at least three miles away from Number 4 Private Drive – a long distance for small girl to travel alone. Still, there were a couple at school and a 'right and proper citizen' like Vernon couldn't just go and ask the teachers to not let her engage in the very hobby all the teachers liked to encourage most of all. "Knights, castles, and princesses. Fairy godmothers and evil witches. Not to mention evil stepparents – something I am sure I don't need to explain why I found engaging." Her voice grew wistful. "But after. . . a certain point, I no longer needed to dream about fairy tales; I started living in one."

"But the reality of it didn't live up to dreams you had as girl," Arya guessed from the other canoe, her tone offering sympathy for shattered innocence.

But that was something Helena didn't need. "No. It was even better," she smiled, to Arya somewhat widening eyes.

"Yet, I know it wasn't all sunshine and rainbows," Eragon said, sounding somewhat confused.

"Yes, but good _won_ in the end," she said fervently. "No matter how bad things got, all the trials and tribulations, they were overcome."

"People died, didn't they," Eragon reminder her, giving her a slight frown.

"I know, and I wish they hadn't," was all she had to say to that. Thinking back on all the darkness in her past was confusing. She had multitudes of complaints and regrets, but that didn't mean she hated her life.

"Do you think they are doing this on purpose," Narí called to Lifaen. "Speaking about some great adventure without explaining further, knowing that we promised not to pry?"

"I was just wondering the same thing," the other elf answered before perking up. "Hey, do you remember about that time when Uldreiyn almost accidently broke a dragon egg?" he asked the other elf mildly. "But he did some things, and he was forgiven in the end, wasn't he?"

"You mean that episode involving a wyvern taming and that sorcerer that almost turned a dragon into an elf?"

"Yes." Both elves were silent for a long time. "Good times." They laughed.

"I would love to hear that story!" Eragon said excitedly.

"We know you do," they smiled at him until Eragon understood the point they were making and settled down sulkily.

"But I would like to hear some of those fairy tales of yours, if you remember them," Lifaen coaxed carefully.

And so, Helena spend that day trying to trudge up all the details from the fairy tales of her youth. She managed to remember most of Hansel and Getel, Rapunzel and some of the other stories from the Grimm brothers, though she only knew the child friendly versions. She had also seen all of the Disney movies since Petunia, in a rare moment of decency, had allowed her to sit in when they showed them to Dudley, so that also helped her remember some stories. She had heard from Hermione that Disney had turned some other fairy tales into movies as well after she left the muggle world, like Beauty and The Beast, but Helena had never gotten around to seeing them. Being reminded of them now, she resolved to rectify that if she ever made it back to her world. If she could make the trip to and back easy, perhaps she could even take Eragon with her? Watching movies together was something nonmagical people did, didn't they?

Wanting to end on a high note, at the end she told the one fairy tale she could recall with perfect clarity, the _Tale of the Three Brothers_. She did refrain from mentioning it was the one story Helena knew had some bases in reality. Lifaen and Narí were curious enough as it was. And though Helena thought Arya's insistence on keeping quiet was unnecessary, she was warry of annoying the princess more after her stunt with Trianna.

"A good moral," Orik nodded, from across the other boat with Arya and Narí. "Nobody likes a braggard and the dead should stay dead. And I like the ending for the youngest brother. Nearly all your stories have great morals and happy endings for those who are humble and true."

Helena smiled in thanks. "A necessity for a good story, I say." As she said it, Helena was expecting somebody to scoff at her; to say that a good story should teach you about the world and the world didn't owe you any great meaning or fairness. Murtagh would have, she was sure.

But all gathered here seemed either somewhat idealistic, or not confrontational enough to be the voice of cynicism and – while Arya did send her a dubious look – the argument didn't come.

"I have a tale that might be worth telling," Orik mentioned. "Eragon, how much do you know about King Palancar."

"Not much," Eragon admitted sheepishly. "Is that who Palancar Valley is named after?"

Lifaen shook his head, looking aghast. "How could you not know?"

"My people are more concerned with making ends meet than dragging up ancient history," Eragon said defensively.

"Forgive me, I did mean to offend," the elf lowered his head briefly in apology. "But you seem curious enough to take an interesting in such things, no matter how harsh life might be."

Eragon didn't meet the elf's eyes. "Our village was very remote. Our contact with the rest of the world was limited to two stops of merchant caravans every year, at most."

"I couldn't for the life of me recall how the current line of kings back home came about," Helena mentioned with mischievous smile at Lifaen, knowing that it would make him even more curious. He had made Eragon embarrassed so she didn't mind tweaking his nose a little. "I know the current queen is called Elizabeth, but that's about it." Contrary to her hopes, only Orik looked annoyed at her comment, both male elves simply kept serene smiles on their faces.

"How can you know so little about your own leaders?" Orik asked incredulously.

"It didn't affect me," was all Helena said, having no desire to explain what little she knew of the muggle government and how limited the royal family's actually power was. "Anyway, king Palancar?"

Orik, Narí, and Lifaen all knew some of the story so they told it together. Kind Palancar had been the ruler of the humans when they first settled on Alagaesia about eight hundred years ago. Palancar Valley, which was where Eragon came from, had apparently been one of the few defensible locations not already populated by the dwarves or elves. The rest of the story could be summarized with 'Palancar was both greedy and stupid'. In a desire to expands its borders he naturally came into conflict with the elves who lived there. When they didn't want to swear to him, Palancar promptly declared war on the elven state with predictable result. When the elves defeated the human armies for the third time without any difficulty, Palancar's nobles overthrew him with the help of their super-powered pointy-eared neighbors.

"After that, the Riders kept a very close watch on the human kingdom to make sure they didn't attack anyone again," Lifaen said.

Being human herself, Helena actually felt a little embarrassed by the whole story, and knew it must be worse for Eragon.

"We confess that at the time, many thought your people little better than the Urgals," he continued, which prompted Eragon's face to darken, but the black-haired elf stopped whatever the young rider was going to say with a calming gesture. "Of course, we later learned better. The Riders that had been sent to watch you advocated to have you join their order, saying that with proper guidance, you could have as much potential as any elf."

A sudden thought struck Helena. "Why did the dwarves never join the Riders?" Orik looked at her sharply. "I mean, they were here long before humans were and are obviously just as worthy." She wasn't even trying to flatter Orik. It was true. To Helena, dwarves seemed little different from humans that just happened to be smaller and stockier.

"If the Riders had their way, the dwarves would have been represented among their numbers," Lefean answered.

"But every dwarven king refused the offer, whenever the subject came up," Orik finished.

"But why?" Eragon asked. "Aren't Riders incredibly powerful? Why wouldn't the dwarves want some of their own among their number?"

"Because we aren't just talking about individual bonds like you have with Saphira, or Helena has with Godric," Lefean answered. "For human Riders to be possible, the human race as a whole needed to be added to the enchantment that bound elves and dragons together. The same enchantment that granted we elves the immortality of dragons and dragons the speech of elves.

 _'I think that you elves definitely got the better part of that arrangement,'_ Saphira's voice sounded in all their ears as she and Godric jumped out of the tree line from where they had been hunting.

Lefean, Narí, and even Arya, all bowed their heads in the dragons' direction. "We do not deny this," Lefean said almost reverently.

The respect that all the elves gave to the dragons suddenly made a lot more sense to Helena.

 _'And this also explains why I felt so sure we could trust the elves.'_ Godric spoke only to her. It sounded like he wasn't entirely sure how to feel about this. Surely, having some outside force influence your instincts would be cause for concern. If there was even a difference between his instincts and the enchantment; at this point they might just be completely intertwined.

"And that is why we have refused to join the Riders; we had no desire to be changed." Orik shook his head. "To be honest, I don't know whether we made the right choice or not."

"It is not a decision to be made lightly," Lefean offered, looking understanding. "Surely you would have grown stronger to be made a part of the Pact, but you also would have suffered even more during the fall. We elves have suffered greatly with the decline of the dragons, not even counting those lives lost in the war.

"Wait," Eragon said. "If this is true, and we humans joined this Pact, then why aren't we immortal too?"

"The human magicians that were necessary to help with the enchantment weren't as powerful or numerous as the ones that originally formed the bond between the dragons and elves, hence why there have historically been fewer human riders than elven" Lifean explained. "Or perhaps it is because you were added later? I admit, I am no expert on this."

"How much influence did the Riders really have in the human kingdoms?" Helena asked, remembering some of the books she had read in Tronjheim and their less than glowing reviews.

"Kingdom," Lifean corrected. "At time there was only the one. After Palancar proved be less than able as a ruler, many of his people struck out on their own. Some of these formed independent tribes, others tried to build a kingdom of their own, using the city of Ilirea as their capital city."

"Where is Ilirea?" Eragon asked when Lifean paused his tale to breath.

"It used to be an elven city but was abandoned during the war with the dragons. Right now, it has a different name, Uru'baen. This kingdom, which came to be known as the Brodring kingdom, was marginally more successful, eventually swallowing up Palancar's own territories. Without bloodshed, I might add. The nobles simply decided they liked the House of Langfeld better as a royal family, and Palancar's heirs were imprisoned but not killed. A remarkably civil revolution that validated many who pushed for your race's inclusion in the pact." Lifean looked pointedly at Helena. "To get back to your question, the Riders got involved in the politics of elves, humans, and dwarves, as little as they felt they could justify to themselves."

"What does that mean?" Helena asked.

"I am not the right person to answer that question." And it was clear that he wouldn't be swayed.

Eragon continued asking for history, both elven and human, but Helena soon lost interest, and started to update her journal. At first, she started to rant about all the annoyances in her life. Very few of her troubles with Eragon made it in; her feelings about that still being too confusing to put into words. It was mostly about Murtagh, the initial distrust of the Varden, the evilness of the twins, and Arya's obstinacy in regards to sharing secrets that weren't even hers. When Helena felt herself getting too worked up, she made sure to focus more on the positive. Here, Eragon did succeed in making an appearance. Great, she really was like a lovesick teenager, wasn't she? Gushing about the boy she liked in the privacy of her diary?

Embarrassed, she tried focus on something more useful, turning back pages until she reached the one where she started write down useful, unorthodox, spells to get around wards. Helena tried to recall what spells she used in the battle of Farthen Dur, but the memories were hazy like she had been drunk at the time. The result of surrendering her mind and will to Godric, she knew. From what she could recall, they had experimented a little with different spells at the beginning, but then restricted themselves to a few favorites they knew worked. On the battlefield, against superior numbers, speed became a lot more important than creativity. The problems was that word of their fighting style had certainly gotten out by now, no matter how few Urgals had actually survived meeting Godric in battle, so Helena would have to assume precautions would be taken against her.

And she still hadn't gotten any closer to using the local version of magic. At this point, her best hope was to wait until meeting her new instructors and see if they had any ideas.

And Helena wasn't the only one who felt themselves lacking in an essential skill. Godric had taken to trying spew fire at least once every hour on average while he was alone.

 _'Why don't you just ask Saphira for advice,'_ Helena asked, though she already suspected the answer.

 _'Can you imagine how smug and condescending she'd be if I asked her for lessons,?'_ Godric said with horror. _'You know I have pride, and Saphira has already bested me in almost every other area.'_

 _'I suppose. . .'_ Helena could definitely understand his hesitation, but breathing fire was obviously important to him. At this rate, he'd end up vomiting again if he tried any harder.

 _'If I haven't succeeded within the next two weeks, I will ask her. I am younger than her by two weeks, so if I succeeded before then, I could conceivably claim this as a win.'_

'So is this just about pride, or are you still trying to impress Saphira?'

It had been a long time since Godric left Saphira to fend for herself against the Ra'zac, which was the original reason behind the rift between the two dragons. But they had fought together in the battle of Farthen Dûr and Godric's opinion of Eragon had risen marginally over the last few weeks. Helena was unsure about how things stood between the two dragons now.

There was tiredness to Godric's voice as if divulging unpleasant news. _'She and I are the last two free dragons in the world. Lack of other options will mean that she and I will likely end up as mates no matter what. Saphira is magnificent, but I don't want her to settle for me just because she doesn't have a choice. That is why I must win her respect.'_

A massive grin formed on Helena's face. _'You love her!'_ she gushed.

 _'Nothing so romantic, I assure you,'_ Godric went haughtily. _'Nothing like that ridiculous sweetness between you and Eragon.'_

Helena ignored the goading as well as Eragon's question as to why she was smiling. _'You love her!'_ she repeated.

 _'I respect her and I simply wish that respect returned, as anyone would'_ he sniffed _. 'I will not allow myself to be considered a lesser in our partnership.'_

'You love her!'

she continued, unabated.

 _'Go play with your boy toy,'_ he sneered before withdrawing his mind, making it clear that he intended to ignore any further teasing.

Helena turned to Eragon, still grinning like a loon. "Say Eragon, what's Saphira's opinion about–" Godric's attention came back so rapidly it might as well have apparated directly into her brain, and he sent a sharp stab of pain through her mind to halt her words. _'Don't you fucking dare!'_

"What?" Eragon asked when Helena grimaced, though it couldn't completely smother her grin.

"Nothing," she answered unconvincingly.

"Right," Eragon rolled his eyes.

 _'Saphira already knows my mind, and she considers everybody's admiration her due, including my own.'_ Helena was a little startled at the absolute confidence Saphira had in her own worth, which stood in sharp contrast to Eragon's own more surprising was that it didn't seem accompanied by a corresponding low opinion of everyone else. _'You embarrassing me will not help matters. Either I win her respect or I don't; we will be partners either way, at least for a time. And I have decided to trust you when it comes to your relations, and I will expect the same courtesy from you.'_

'Alright, alright, I won't try and help you,'

Godric's snort made it clear what he thought of her 'help'. _'Not matter how adorable you are.'_

'I am not– aah, forget it,' he gave up and redirected his attention again.

An impressively large white hawk with black spotted feathers came tumbling out of the foliage, causing Helena to look up from the memo filled pages. It was too far away for her to make out many details, but its erratic fidgeting indicated some form of injury.

 _'It's already dead,'_ Godric started. _'One of its wing bones is broken; easy prey for anyone.'_

'Like you?'

Helena asked. Out of curiosity, she briefly touched the bird's mind and felt its pain. It would probably be a mercy.

Before Godic had a chance to answer, an arrow streaked across the water and pierced the birds with a wet 'thunk' _._ Helena was glad she hadn't delved deeper into the birds mind. She had felt what it was like to ride a dying mind back in Gil'ead and it wasn't something she cared to repeat, animal or human.

"Why?" Came Eragon's bewildered question. Helena hadn't even noticed Arya taking and aiming her bow.

"It was too injured to recover and would have died to today or tomorrow. Such is the nature of things. I saved it hours of pain."

"If you were going to involve yourself, you could have just healed it." Helena spoke the words without thinking, and regretted almost immediately. She was trying to get along!

Eragon looked at her and askance and Arya raised a perfectly trimmed eyebrow at her. "If you believe that, why didn't _you_ heal it yourself?"

"Fair point," Helena conceded, grimacing and resolved to try and hold her tongue for a while. Both Lifean and Narí had done such an excellent job at dropping Helena's guards with their easy smiles, banter and discussion of song lyrics that it was easy for Helena to just blurt out whatever thought passed her mind. Arya was wrong though, if the elf thought Helena could have easily healed the hawk with magic. Brom's death had proven how unskilled she was at that area. Yet another thing Helena needed to work on, but to do that, she'd need an injured target. The only thing she could think of was to practice on animals, a thought that made her stomach turn. Arya's rhetorical suggestion to try and heal every dying animal they came across was probably worthwhile.

Helena spend the rest of the boat ride with her nose in her little book, feeling very grateful when Lifean and Narí started to talk again like nothing happened.

"Are you still looking for new spells?" Eragon asked once they managed to find a private moment after docking their ships for the day and Helena still had her a little book in hand.

"More like, new uses for old once," Helena admitted. "It's not like I _can't_ make my own, but I think it would take too much time and effort for too little gain."

"That reminds me, do you know of a way to make yourself stronger and faster?" Eragon frowned. "Brom kept telling me that I am good with a sword, and I know I am good with a bow, but that won't matter. You see how the elves move, don't you: the grace, the nonchalant speed and dexterity. And the only way I was able to briefly stand up to Durza was by using magic that Arya told me was as likely to kill me as the Shade. I am good for a human, but that isn't good enough anymore."

"A strengthening potion does exist," Helena admitted. "But it is one of those difficult potions that takes multiple stages to make and several days to mature and the effects only last a short time. Same with a speed potion. And I am not even sure I have the ingredients to make one dose of each. Sorry."

"Then I have no choice but to find a safe way to use that trick I used against Durza."

Helena knew it was impossible to argue; they were too much alike. "At least wait until you can consult an expert."

"Fine," Eragon conceded easily. "In the meantime, I don't want to get sloppy. Or you for that matter. I doubt you practiced all that much since Gil'ead." His lips curled and his eyes looked away guiltily. "I am sorry. It's my fault you grew discouraged."

"Don't apologize for being good."

"Murtagh was a better teacher than me, and Arya probably is to, but. . ." he trailed, biting his lip.

"There is nobody I would rather have sweeping me off my feet," Helena grinned before pocketing her shrunken staff and returning it to its usual size.

At Helena's insistence, they only practiced when they could find a moment to themselves. No matter how Arya may have proven she wasn't hopeless exactly, she still didn't want to show off her own mediocrity before all the supernaturally skilled. Fortunately, nobody seemed inclined to forbid their little incursions deeper into the forest, so long as they didn't go further than half mile from the river. When they at one point tried to go a little farther, Lifean's voice, coming from all directions at once, politely asked them to turn back. It made Helena question just how private their private moments really were, but she decided to toe the line for now.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

As their party moved deeper and deeper into Du Weldenvarden, the forests magical nature grew more and more obvious. Trees whose trunks intertwined with each other into a spiral shape, and other fantastical shapes. One morning, they passed a line of moss that glowed with green light, running almost an entire mile across the chore. The amount of wild animals they passed grew tenfold since leaving the shores of Eldar Lake behind. More impressive than the many rodents, lepers, and dozens of duck families swimming alongside the canoes, already Helena had seen two black bears drinking from the river as they passed. When Eragon questioned whether they shouldn't still be hibernating, Arya explained that things worked differently in Du Weldenvarden, a point further emphasized by a wild hare dipping its feet in the water so that the elven woman could reach out and pat it. All the non-elves were relieved when the animals at least still made themselves scarce when the dragons were around, so nature still made some kind of sense. The only other really exciting thing that happened on the river was encountering a giant waterfall where they had to travel a few miles by land to get passed it. Helena wondered if she could have made all the canoes softly drift on the wind over the crashing waters, but didn't want to risk it.

After more than a week of travel, time of which Helena was acutely aware they could have already spent at their destination if they didn't need to travel in secret, they reached the end of their aquatic journey when the Gaena River flowed into Ardwen Lake near the city of Sílthrim. Sadly, nobody except for Narí and Lifaen were going to visit the city to gather horses. Helena and Eragon sat next to each other on a surfaced tree root as they watched the distant lights of the city at evening. From where they were sitting, it was like the city consisted of neatly arrayed giant trees which had their leaves replaced by star-like lights. It still wasn't Hogwarts-like in its magical beauty, but was already closer than Tronjheim was, despite not being as grand. Perhaps not entirely fair, since everything felt more magical in the moonlight, while sitting shoulder to should, fingers intertwined, with someone that made your stomach feel as if it was playing host to dozens of small butterflies. At times like these, Helena had trouble resisting the urge to feel guilty about being happy, knowing that her disappearance must be worrying her friends back home sick.

However much Eragon and Helena may have wanted to see the city, their desire obviously didn't compare to Arya's, who looked at city the same way Helena might have looked at Hogwarts every time she needed to return to the Dursleys.

Orik meanwhile, was leaning against a tree a small distance from the rest of them, looking politely interest in the scenery. Helena felt somewhat bad for the dwarf. Throughout their journey, Orik had grown increasingly more quiet. The male elves, while cheerful and happy to entertain, didn't really connect with anyone except each other. Helena and Eragon also preferred to spend time with each other rather than the dwarf and Arya was as distant as ever.

As had become the habit, Arya and Eragon cast wards over their campsite to keep mosquitos and other unpleasant creatures at bay, something Helena had no spell for. Helena could almost hear the buzz of civilization, of thousands of people talking and living in one place, but it was probably her imagination.

What definitely wasn't her imagination, however, was when she turned into Husky and took a sniff from the city that was thankfully standing upwind. Du Weldenvarden had been overflowing in pleasant smells since the moment she entered it, but this was something beyond that. Like a connoisseur of classical music first hearing Mozart, Husky Helena spend over an hour simply allowing the various odor of the city to wash over her. Not even Eragon calling out while prodded her soft furry skin could bring her out of her trance. Helena smelled more flowers and fruits than she knew existed. The smell of fresh paper, of a washed pillow, of honey and the air after the rain. Then there were the various smells that indicated other animals, almost none of them carrying the distinct smell of fear or distress, and each telling her a little of that creature's story. Helena doubted that so many creatures could live together in harmony without outside influence or a lot of magic, probably both.

Eventually, Godric managed to pull her mind out of the pleasant haze it found itself in. Helena returned to her human form, feeling as if she had just woken up from the most pleasant dream she had ever had.

"I would refrain from using that form too often in this place, especially now with one of our Dagshelgr celebrations a little over a week way," Arya warned her. "The magic in this place speaks to all our baser instincts, and to animals most of all. Do not lose yourself."

Helena nodded dazedly, now wishing more than ever she could enter Sílthrim. Failing that, Helena wanted to return to her canine form, but knew she couldn't. Her Animagus form occasionally spoke to her, wanting to indulge in that other part of her soul, but never before had it pined for control as much as this. At her own request, Godric's mind flowed over her like a blanket to calm her as she slowly drifted off to sleep.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Eragon seemed very impressed by the horses Lifaen and Narí brought them. Scarcely any larger than ponies, covered in lustrous hair of chestnut, black, and silver, they carried themselves with a hint of the same grace that their elven riders did. They were smarter too, and could understand and follow complex commands in the ancient language.

Helena enjoyed them too, but while moderately impressed, wasn't surprised. Magical animals were almost always smarter than their normal counterparts and this place was obviously magical, even if it was too subtle for her too sense like a straightforward spell.

When Helena shared her thoughts, however, Lifaen shook his head. "They are not inherently magical. We have bred them for many centuries, and you'd be amazed at how well you can train an animal if you can share and know its mind."

Helena remembered how easy she had learned to handle Elladora, her deceased horse, by touching her mind. In light of that, the extremely docile nature of the horses and their lack fear made more sense.

Soon after they had left the city behind, it turned out that Arya was wrong. This Dagshelgr celebration she spoke of wasn't a week away; it was only a few days away. On the second day after starting on the last stretch of their journey to _Ellesméra,_ an eerie but beautiful sound came drifting through the leaves, coming from all directions at once.

"What is this?" Orik demanded tersely.

"Nothing to worry about," Lefean said. "This is the annual ritual to protect and nourish Du Weldenvarden. Without us, this forest would be half its current size and not nearly so full of life."

"I miscounted," Arya said softly and turned to Lefean. "Is it safe for them?"

"We are far enough from any city or gathering that the magic will have diluted enough to not overwhelm them."

The whispered sounds of the forest grew louder. It vaguely resembled the sound a triangle instrument made, except more rhythmic and with a greater range of tones. Helena felt her spirits lift with the beats, while simultaneously developing a lump in her throat. It was like this song had somehow succeeded to convert pure emotion into sound.

"That is as strong as it will become so far from the spell's origins. If they retain their minds now, there is nothing to worry about."

"What is there not to worry about?" Eragon asked, his voice trembling slightly with the same contradictory emotions that Helena was feeling.

"The Lyrics we weave into the magics speak of passion and longing, of safety and home," Lifean answered. "If we had still been

near Sílthrim, or gotten too close to _Ellesméra, the emotions would have overwhelmed you. Even some elves must take care they do not lose themselves. As it is, I think it is safe to simply enjoy it."_

"I don't want any magic affecting my mind," Orik growled, almost fearfully.

Arya quickly spoke some words in Elvish and Orik immediately relaxed. "You can't avoid magic completely in Du Weldenvarden, but this will shield you from any obvious affects." The other two elves looked at Orik like he was mad to deny himself this and sat down with their eyes closed, wearing raptured looks.

"Don't transform," Arya shot at Helena. "Beyond that, don't think, feel." And the elven princess sat down as well, and closed her eyes.

Godric and Saphira gave a strangely muted roar, as if afraid to disturb the melody that rang through the forest.

 _'I feel the magic calling out to me, setting my blood aboil. I want to move, fly, fight, anything!'_

 _'Don't go too far, my brave strong guardian,'_ Helena responded, attributing her sudden bout of melodrama to her magical induced mood. There was an almost painful yearning in her heart that she didn't fully understand. Lifean words about increasing the size of Du Weldenvarden made this seem like some fertility ritual, but Helena didn't feel any special desire to jump Eragon, so it couldn't be that simple.

 _'Keep your wits about you, and make sure to keep your magic leached. Remember that it reacts to strong emotions now.'_ Godric jumped and left them to do his own thing, Saphira soon following after him.

It was good that Godric reminded her, since a large part of Helena wanted to let her magic just go, and let it sing in unison with the magic of the forest as it was inviting her to do.

Eragon and Helena looked at each other and wordlessly agreed to walk a small distance so they'd have a little more privacy. Eragon leaned with his back against a large tree and slowly slid downwards, looking as exhausted as Helena felt. The forest's song hadn't been playing for very long, yet Helena already felt as if she had just spend several minutes crying and screaming her heart out, and now felt pleasantly drained. Helena believed Lefean when he claimed the feeling would have overwhelmed them if it had been just a bid stronger.

Helena followed Eragon and sat herself between his legs. Immediately his arms wrapped around her, holding her close, and resting his chin on her shoulder. It felt like home.

 _Home,_ Helena thought. _If I would have to put a word onto the emotions this magic tries to invoke, it would be home._ It would probably explain why it affected Eragon and Helena in a different way as it did the elves, who had looked completely at peace. For this forest wasn't their home, for neither of the humans.

"Before I left," Eragon said softly, "the longest I had been away from Carvahall was two weeks during an exceptionally long hunting trip. Now, it's been over five months, and I am not sure I will ever see it again."

"Your home is still there," Helena tried to reassure him.

"Is it?" Eragon's voice spoke of his losses and damaged optimism. "Can you conjure some water for me?"

"Not now," Helena said regretfully.

Uncaring of the loss of drinking water, Eragon emptied his flask in the air, whispering. "Adurna flautja." The water floated a small distance from Helena's in a large viscous bubble. "Draumr kópa." The water contracted and spread itself out like a mirror, showing a gaunt looking man that bared some resemblance to Eragon. Except he was taller, broader of shoulder, and sported a wild stubble that was just sort of a proper beard. He also wore an expression that was so severe Helena didn't think he'd laughed in years. "That's my cousin, Roran." Eragon said Shakely.

Helena squinted her eyes, trying and failing to see the friendly Roran from Eragon's stories that he shared with her.

"What happened to him?" Eragon asked worriedly, his hands hovering over the floating bowl of water. "He looks injured." Indeed, one of his arms hung in a sling. "Whatever it is, it's probably my fault."

Helena touched his hands and brought them back around her. The power holding the water aloft disappeared and it fell to the ground, wetting her robe. She ignored this and turned her face so she could look at Eragon. "I know you. If there was anything you could have done to help him, you would have." Roran had been working as a miller's assistant to earn some money in another nearby village called _Therinsford_ when Eragon and Brom fled from Carvahall, so there hadn't been any chance to say goodbye. Truthfully, Helena had guessed Roran would end up being in danger eventually, regardless of the note left for him telling him to be careful. His connection to Eragon guaranteed it. Helena would have apparated to Carvahall to perhaps bring Eragon's remaining family to the Varden and safety if it wasn't for the psychological block preventing her from apparating far from Godric, and the fact that apparating to a place you hadn't been to before was dangerous even under the very best of circumstances.

But even if Roran was in danger because of Eragon that didn't make it necessarily his fault. No more than she was at fault for getting her parents killed by being 'the chosen one'.

"I could have helped him, and I still can," Eragon said. "I could take off on Saphira and fly to Carvahall. It would probably take me a week to get there while avoiding detection, but I could do it. _Alagaësia_ has endured Galbatorix for a century, it could endure the month it would take me to get my family to safety. If I hadn't made so many other promises, if Nasuada wasn't already mobilizing the Varden, I probably would do exactly that." He sighed. "When considering the fate of the world, I completely forgot how it would affect the people I cared about the most."

Helena couldn't think of anything to say to that, and throughout the lull in the conversation, the music echoed all the louder.

"And if even everything goes right, I can't go back to the way things are," Eragon continued. "And I am not just talking about Carvahall. Will we ever be able to sit down and laugh with other people as equals, without worrying about our station?"

"Yes," she answered. If she succeeded in going back to her own world, there would be plenty who'd still treat her normally. All of her friends would probably be stunned by Godric and their bond, but they were used to weird things happening to her. "Not many, but yes. You just have to keep showing people that you're just another person."

"I'd like to believe that," Eragon said. "Have you given any thought whether you will stay in _Alagaësia_ or return home?" He tried but didn't succeed in trying to sound casual. "Assuming you don't eventually learn how to hop between dimensions, of course."

"No, I haven't," Helena said, tersely; it wasn't a pleasant question. "But no matter what, I can't let my friends worry forever. I will eventually need to return, at least briefly. And if I can't return after that. . .," she trailed off. "Well, I'm sorry."

"And Godric?" Eragon prodded carefully. "He won't be free to go and do as he pleases there."

"That's true," was all she said. In her mind's eye, she pictured Godric making his home somewhere in the forbidden forest or perhaps on top of one of the Hogwarts towers. By having a giant dragon friend, Helena would probably become the coolest teacher the school had ever seen.

But Godric had a great wanderlust in him, and he'd quickly grow bored. He would do it if she'd ask, if she insisted on going back to Hogwarts, but that just made Helena more reluctant to ask and take advantage of him. And besides, the idea of travel and adventure was far from unpleasant to Helena, so perhaps she would eventually grow bored too. It was a difficult question and it didn't have a good answer.

The music continued to pull at her heart, and she kept a tight hold on her powers.

"I know it's your decision, and I will try to respect it, but I don't think I can remain silent or try to convince you not to stay," Eragon admitted, hugging her a little tighter and putting his face in her hair and neck. "When I think of home now, my first thought is of you."

Helena gasped and her heart felt like it wanted to explore from her chest and launch itself at the moon. Helena said that she wouldn't agree to another attempt at lovemaking until he did something romantic. Surely this counted? She wasn't going to initiate anything after her last blunder though, and decided to just enjoy the feeling of being held.

Eragon didn't try to do anything more than hug her, however, and so they eventually drifted off to sleep together. Lulled there by the music that spoke of a pure promise that it couldn't deliver.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

In the last stretch of their journey, Helena got the impression that Narí and Lefean cared much more about the fact that Helena and Eragon were in love than that they were Riders. The morning after the Dagshelgr celebrations, Helena woke up, still with her back resting against Eragon and his arms having fallen into her lap. Bleary eyes opened to find their entire entourage from the elves to Orik looking down at them. Orik wore a smirk, Arya a scowl, and Narí and Lefean were completely exuberant.

From that moment on, the two male elves spend half their time inventing new ballets, with Eragon and Helena's love affair as the central subject. Helena couldn't remember a time when she had been this consistently embarrassed for that long a time. Eragon clearly felt the same since, judging by his constant mortified expression and difficulty meeting Helena's eyes.

As a result, both Helena and Eragon decided to regularly escape into the air with their dragons to escape the endless teasing; something they were allowed to do now. Apparently, they were in a scarcely populated place in Du Weldevarden so the danger was limited, at least since a week after Dagshelgr. The only ones who could betray their presence were the birds, animals and the trees, something the elves seemed to worry about as an actual possibility. Sadly, they were only allowed to fly when the group on the ground moved slowly or took a break. If they didn't, it would become difficult for the dragons to find their way back over the endless fields of tree tops, like trying to find an exact spot of water on the ocean. When Helena and Eragon traveled by horse, the dragons were never in danger of getting lost, since they could always tell where their riders were, but if they couldn't use that. . . Well let's just say that Helena understood why Arya hadn't wanted to travel through the wild unexplored regions of Du Weldenvarden without a guide. If they didn't have Narí, Lefean, and their uncanny direction savvy horses, they would have gotten lost ages ago.

At times, the canopy overhead grew so thick it hardly allowed any light to filter through for the plants on the ground, leaving nothing but moss and lichen. Even with the sun up, the forest was stuck in perpetual twilight, and when it rained, it was like night had settled over the world hours before schedule. Even exploring the new forest as a Husky eventually stopped being interesting.

Also, just like in the Beor Mounthains, Alagaesia apparently didn't believe in limitations when it came to size. The trees in the Beor Mounthains were large, but that somehow seemed only normal when they stood amidst the giant mountains. In Du Weldenvarden, the size of the trees seemed much more noticeable, with the leafy sealing of the forest hanging over two hundred feet above their heads. Helena also found that this part of the forest had a feeling of solemnity and agelessness about, as if this place had remained unchanged for eons.

It was with enormous relief that Helena listened to Arya telling them that this increase in size meant that _Ellesméra_ was finally growing near. Godric too was relieved, especially when the trees grew sparse enough that he could once again move about without bumping into anything. Normally bumping into trees wasn't a problem for him since he could literally push them out of his way, but there was no bending these behemoths.

Then the moment finally came when they encountered to first new person that Helena had seen in over a month. An elven man with a face like it was cut from marble appeared before them, as suddenly as if he had apparated but without its characteristic bang. One moment there was nothing, the next a beam of light shown through the canopy and he stood there as if the light had summoned him. Dressed in flowing robes that simultaneously looked humble while exuding an aura of dignity, he stared at them, frozen, unblinking, as if he was a vivid painting.

"Eragon, Helena, show him your palms, and Eragon your ring," Arya murmured. They did, and the strange man's eyes bored into hers. Helena felt as if he was seeing right through her; so much so that Helena feared he was reading her mind and he was simply too subtle for her to notice. After a tense few seconds of waiting, the man smiled and Helena was reminded of a Sphinx that had its riddle answered correctly. He opened his arms wide in greeting and vanished, along with the light in which he appeared.

 _This is fairy land indeed,_ Helena thought, stunned, as Arya named the specter Gilderien the Wise and a whole bunch of other titles that sounded impressive but meant nothing to Helena.

This impression was only further reinforced with each new step her horse took. Helena had thought she had grown sick of trees after almost a month in Du Weldenvarden, but the elves used living wood in the same way humans used stones. Every house or building she saw consisted of wooden tree trunks, woven together like fiber rope or fabric. The trunks shrinking or bulging to fit nearly every design. Every house was different, like every piece needed to be its own work of art. Not all of it was brown, most of it wasn't even, but exotic colors of red, white, black, silver, green and even purple, or combinations of these. More than once, Helena saw one kind of wood turn seamlessly into entire different species even. Some rooftops had soil resting on their ceiling or other vertical surfaces so they could sport colorful flowerbeds like lovely charms.

There was no obvious order in the arrangement of housing, with each new work looking like it had spontaneously sprouted out of the ground like a flower, even though that was clearly impossible. _Ellesméra seemed to pride itself on its chaotic, yet artistic, appearance. An intoxicating aroma filled the air due to all the diverse flora all around and Helena, again, had to resist the urge to transform to better appreciate it._

All at once, as if signaled, the inhabitants of Ellesméra revealed themselves, stepping from behind bushes, trees, and houses. Looking out over verandas, rooftops, and standing on branches that formed a web in the air connecting to various treehouses. It looked horribly unsafe to stand that high in the air on something as unstable as branches, until Helena reminded herself of the unnatural grace and balance of elves. Just like every other elf they met, these were all universally beautiful, but just like the living houses, all looked distinct from each other. It was like each and every one of these faces that stared back at her had a baseline of perfection, but took in a few odd quirks, just to be different from everyone else. Some had exotic hair colors like blue or purple, occasionally hanging up to their knees, others had cute rounded cheeks or lips so full it was like they were kissing the air. Helena doubted that all of Ellesméra had come to greet them however; there were only a few dozen or so.

Helena couldn't discern whether they looked at her with hope or suspicious. Somehow, she felt like she was on display in a zoo, more so than she had with the Varden. Shooting a glance towards Eragon, she saw him performing the greeting Arya had taught them and quickly followed suit, putting her fingers to her lips and giving a short bow.

Helena felt the tension drain out of the air and flutter of excited conversation drifted through foliage. The mixture of awe and fear Helena had sensed when being introduced to the inhabitants of Farthen Dûr and Tarnag was absent however.

Arya raised a hand and the mutterings died down. She dismounted, and rubbed the neck of her horse soothingly while whispering something in his ear. It trotted away. When

Narí and Lefean started doing the same, both Helena and Eragon took that as their que to do the same.

"Thanks a bunch," Helena patted her own pony. The horse nickered as if to say, 'Your welcome' before striding off after his kin.

They stood still for several moments in silence as every eye was on them. Despite not being so numerous as the humans or dwarves had been, there was much more scrutiny here.

Helena was glad when Arya finally took the lead in leading them forward, Narí and Lefean bringing up the rear with Eragon, Orik and Helena in the middle like they were being protected.

"How was all this accomplished?" Eragon, curious as always, whispered as he pointed to several of unnaturally grown treehouses.

"It is like the chairs in Ceris. We sing to them in our tongue, and by giving them our energy to use for growth, we can direct that growth," Arya whispered back.

Helena could still feel the eyes on the back of her neck, but kept her eyes resolutely forward, and found herself staring at the most normal looking building she had seen yet. Considering that it still had bark for circular walls and was build inside a network of spiraling trunks that was as large as any other building excepting Tronjheim Helena had seen in Alagaesia, that was saying something.

Gnarling roots served as steps towards an elevated platform and Helena had to spread her wobbling arms wide to keep her balance. Godric kept his nose to her back as an extra aid. Poor Orik actually had to almost crawl to climb the required two meters before Eragon pulled him up. At this point, it didn't need to be mentioned that Arya and the other elves could treat this as if it was a perfectly normal stone stairway.

Thick vines served instead of a door and they parted of their own accord when Arya stepped through. Four meters wide, the opening was large enough for Saphira and Godric to crawl through.

Helena took a deep steadying breath. This was obviously the closest thing to a palace here, so the queen was likely inside. _This is it._

The corridor they entered was shorter than she expected from a building this size. Before they knew it, they arrived at a large hall with an open ceiling and a relatively smallish round table and Helena was reminded of Hrothgar's table with its wear and tear. This one looked a little smoother, but it was still full of tiny scratches and lines that spoke of its antiquity. There were twenty-four elves at the table, sixteen of them female, and if Helena hadn't already seen Islanzadi in Arya's mind, she wouldn't have been able to pick her out as the queen.

She wore a small tiara as a crown and cape, but so did many of the other elves. The most noticeable thing about her was a staff that curved sharply towards the end with a white raven on top of it, like one of those scepters that ancient wizards used to use. Compared to some of the other elves present, one of whom had actual grass instead of hear growing out of his head, it was a very tame quirk. Dark rings surrounded her eyes, and she looked as if she hadn't slept properly in weeks. When her moss green eyes met Helena's own emerald green once and the rest of their party, any sign of tiredness disappeared so quickly that the young witch thought she might have imagined it. All of the elves stood up, and backed to the sides so there was an open space between Islanzadi and their party.

Arya took the lead again and knelt on one knee. Eragon followed suit, placing himself slightly behind Arya. Helena knelt close to Eragon to show their closeness, but also behind him to show deference. She had asked Eragon to be the leader of the Riders, and so he needed to take the lead whenever possible. Godric and Saphira loomed over them, covering both Riders in their shadows.

Helena had pictured this meeting many times in her mind over the past weeks, and Arya had made sure they all knew what expect. All of those expectations were immediately blown out of the water when _Islanzadí ignored whatever Arya had claimed the queen was supposed to say at this point, pulled Arya up by her shoulder and hugged her so tightly the clearly perplexed Arya could do nothing but endure it, looking frozen with shock with her arms held closely to her body. "O my daughter, I have wronged you!"_

Behind her, Helena could hear Orik make a faint unintelligible noise. Helena could see Eragon briefly gaping like a fish. The revelations of Arya's royal pedigree being of mush more concern than the queen's breach in decorum.

For her own part, Helena found herself smiling slightly. Ignoring any all regulations when you meet your supposed-to-be-dead-daughter was very normal and above all _'human'_ _thing to do._

Arya started speaking in Elvish. "May good fortune rule over you. Peace live in your heart. And the stars watch over you, Islanzadi Dröttningu," Arya spoke the greeting, calmly, like she wasn't being hugged and the protocol she predicted was still being followed. "I am pleased to report that my mission –"

Arya was halted in her speech when Islanzadi pulled back slightly to give her a stern look, and repeated her previous words in elvish, _"_ O my daughter, I have wronged you. Ever since I sent you away-"

"You did not send me away," Arya interjected coolly but was ignored. Helena wished she had better angle to look at Arya's expression.

"I have not been myself since you left," the queen continued. "And when you disappeared I –" her voice trembled. "I've had trouble sleeping. I feared for your fate and that I'd never seen you again. You left of your own will, of course, still I banned you from my presence during your brief visits, and I was a fool for doing so. I was tempted to ignore caution and commit my people to attacking the empire, searching for you until we found you or died in the attempt. Only the memory of you, my daughter, so much more responsible and dutiful than I, what you would think of such an action, reminded me of my own duty to keep our people safe."

Helena was starting to have trouble following all this. Arya and Eragon had done their best to restart her instructions in the Ancient Language, but it was slow going. Helena took a look around and found the other elves observing the drama with a look of polite interest. Her eyes again fell on Islanzadi's raven and found it staring at her with unnerving intensity.

"You could have supported the Varden," Arya suggested, no longer as painfully polite. "They were the ones best positioned to help me –" she shifted her head briefly to look at the dragons and riders behind her. "Us."

"The Varden are compromised," the queen said coldly, and Helena could see were Arya had gotten that particular tone from. "It was they who leaked your route to Galbatorix and allowed you to be captured."

When she put it that way, Helena could almost understand the elven kingdom's recent isolationism. Almost.

"That is longer a problem," Eragon spoke up and every eye turned to him. "The traitors were found."

"And their fate?" Islanzadi asked darkly.

"One is dead, the other likely is too by this point," Eragon answered. He held his finger to lips and spoke the traditional Evlen greeting, speaking first to acknowledge someone of higher rank. Helena quickly copied to the gesture.

"And may the stars watch over you," Islanzadi acknowledged with a smile one would give to a really well-mannered child. "I apologize for ignoring you, our most important guests," her eyes flicked towards Godric, and her smile fell. "Your appearance is unexpected, to say the least, but that you have come this means you have proven yourself." Helena was glad she wouldn't need to defend Godric again. "But I ask you to be patient with me," she spoke both humans present. "This has been a long time in coming." And she turned back to her wayward daughter and returned to Elvish. "Can you forgive me?"

Helena could feel the tension in the room rising with every second Arya remained silent. "I was barely more than a child when I left. I was impulsive, I admit, but not wrong," Arya finally responded, speaking in a soft voice that nonetheless demanded everyone's attention. "For over two thirds of my life I have fought and killed, doing that which I, perhaps unfairly, believed you should have been doing. For all that time you refused to acknowledge me. You were my queen, but not my mother; you had my loyalty, but not my love. And now, after this time, you think we can go back to the way things were?" Helena was lucky Arya spoke so slowly, otherwise she doubted she'd be able to translate so many of the words.

Islanzadi seemed surprisingly unperturbed by the almost refusal, straightening her back and wearing a resigned smile. "Of course not, Arya, I cannot undo the past, regardless of how much I might want to."

"And I cannot forget."

"Nor should you," she grabbed Arya's hand pleadingly, and again, Helena wished she had a better angle to look at the princess' expression. "You are free to walk away, or even renounce me, but I hope to one day reconcile with you."

Arya's head turned to look at their audience, and Helena could well imagine her wanting to do this in a more private setting. "I am unsure whether we can ever have a normal mother-child relationship again," Arya spoke, sounding uncertain. "But I do still recognize you as family."

"I wish I could say we have all the time we need," the queen said, and walked closer to Eragon and Helena and spoke English. "And whether we do, will largely depends on you, I suspect. Rise." They did. "We are all curious as to who you are and how you came to be here."

Helena looked around herself and too wanted some privacy. Islanzadi seemed to read her mind and smiled, again like a teacher would to encourage a timid child. "If you want some more privacy, we can retire to somewhere else. I warn you though, that unless given a good reason to do otherwise, I will share all I know with all those gathered here."

Eragon and Helena exchanged uncertain glances. Helena shrugged her shoulders, and Eragon spoke, "No, that's fine. My name is Eragon son of nobody."

"Eragon is a powerful name," Islanzadi said. "One we rarely give to our children." Eragon briefly laced his fingers before crossing his arms in front of his chest. "And where do you come from?"

"Carvahall, your majesty."

"Did you flee from the empire?"

"In a manner of speaking."

"A story then. We will hear it soon, but first, who are you girl."

Helena wondered whether it was okay to be annoyed when someone well over ten times your age calls you 'girl', and decided that it didn't matter since she couldn't afford to be anything but polite anyway. "I am Helena. Helena Potter, daughter of Lily and ehm. . ." she coughed awkwardly. "How much do you know about ehm dimensional travel, your majesty."

"Less than I am about to, I imagine," Islanzadi said shrewdly. Excited muttering broke out amongst their audience. One eloquent 'huh' from Orik in particular made Helena wince. She should have told him before now.

"Well, yea I imagine so," Helena agreed with a weak smile. "I seem to have landed myself in this dimension by accident, with no clue about how I got here or how to get back."

Incredulous looks were abound in the audience as well as Islanzadi. "I am sorry to doubt your word, but could you repeat that in the Ancient Language?"

Helena did. These were words she knew she'd need, and so had made sure to memorize.

As soon as she did, silence descended over the room. The incredulity had vanished replaced by a wondrous awe. "It seems there are more powers at play here than we were aware of," Islanzadi said.

"Do your people know of any way to help me get back?" Helena asked hopefully.

"Without even knowing where you came from?" Was the rhetorical answer. "Even if we could, it would take years and years of research."

Helena fought back her disappointment. "But you know where to start looking?" That was more than Helena could do on her own.

"We know that spirits have their own realm, among some other esoteric creatures, and there are theories ascribing to multiple planes of existence, but dimensional _travel_. Well, we have attempted time travel before, but without much success and the death of all involved. With the Ancient Language one can attempt anything; that does not make doing so wise."

"Not even a note?" Helena tried desperately. But Islanzadi shook her head. "Even if we could, our people will be too preoccupied with the war and preparations. Once that is finished, however, I swear we will look into it. But temper your expectations. There is no guarantee of success, and any failed attempt we make will result in much death. How much would _you_ be willing to sacrifice."

"I don't want anyone to die for me," was her pained response. At the same time, she imagined Ron and Hermione, and likely a bunch of others, spending their entire lives on finding a way to get her back. Eragon's hand briefly brushed against hers, but she felt too distraught to be comforted so easily.

"Our sympathies are with you," Islanzadi said, sounding like she meant it. "I swear that after this war, we will help you search for answers. What we truly need to understand, is how you came to be here in the first place; that will give us a clue in how to help you," the queen patted her shoulder reassuringly, and again, Helena couldn't shake the feeling of being treated like a child. "In the meantime, I hope you won't fret too much about things you can't change, and will be able to enjoy your stay in _Ellesméra_. We are all eager to learn more about where you came from, but that can wait." She turned to Godric. "What is your name, oh dragon, and do you come from this same place?"

 _'I was unborn when Helena found me, right after she arrived here,'_ he answered matter-of-factly . _'And my name, is Godric,'_ he answered in a theatrically raised voice.

 _'A good name,'_ Islanzadi complemented, causing her vain partner to preen. The queen opened her mouth to say more, but her raven suddenly jumped from her scepter and flew towards Helena's shoulder.

Helena tried to lean back from the creepy bird whose beak was only inches away from her face, but it was impossible as it stood on her shoulder. "Wyrda.!" It cried in her face. 'Feidra!" it continued. "Feidra! Wyrda! Feidra! Wyrda!"

Helena yelped and tried to swat the bird away, but its talons held tight to her shoulder. That was, until Godric, for the first time, let out a very small stream of fire that nearly caused the raven's feathers to ignite. If Godric hadn't been so careful in not hitting his rider, he likely would have roasted the bird that was now yelping his way back to the queen's septet.

 _'Thank you,'_ Helena said. _'And congratulations.'_

"Blagden," snapped Islanzadi at her bird, shushing it with a finger stroking his feathers. "I tolerate much from you, but there is a limit."

 _'Thank you, I feared I would need to ask Saphira for help. Sadly, I fear I won't be allowed to turn that pest into fried chicken,'_ Godric groused upon seeing that Blagden was a valued pet, regardless of the queen's current displeasure with it.

"I know that 'Wyrda' means 'fate'," Eragon said apprehensively. "But what does 'Feidra' mean?"

Islanzadi looked hesitant, as did all the other elves; all except Arya. "It means doom," she said bluntly.

Helena sighed and told herself that she was starting to feel exasperated instead worried by the continued foreshadowing of her demise.

"Not exactly a helpful prediction," Eragon scowled.

"They seldom are," Islanzadi sighed. "Try not to worry about it, child," she told Helena. "You are as safe in _Ellesméra as anywhere in the world. Nothing will hurt you here." However the continued diminutive address irked her, Helena appreciated the sentiment._

"Thank you," Helena said, and after the queen exchanged former greetings with Saphira, pulling a sealed scroll from her pouch. "I have a missive for you from Nasuada."

"Who might that be?"

"The new leader of the Varden? Ajihad's daughter?"

Islanzadi's eye grew distant as she searched her memory. "Ah yes, I remember that man having a family. I take it that Ajihad has passed away?"

"He has indeed, and his daughter has taken up his position." Helena presented the scroll in front of her, and it was swiftly taken from her hands.

The elven matriarch quickly broke the seal and read the contents, a frown on her face grew steadily more pronounced the further she read. "This does not please me," she said at least. "We finally have Riders again, and now this Nasuada girl wants to rush to attack before you are even fully trained?"

"With respect, your majesty, but it isn't just up to Nasuada," Eragon said. "Will Galbatorix be content to just sit on his throne and wait for us to get stronger?"

"He just might," Islanzadi said mildly. "He may not see you as a threat. Even with two of you, our chances are slim. Why would we make them even smaller by being inpatient?" She shook her head. "No, this is folly. You must remain here for several years before I would agree to risk you in battle."

"Again, with respect, that isn't up to you," Eragon said coldly. "We will do our best to learn as much in the time we have, but we will go and aid the Varden once the war starts in earnest. We gave our oath."

"And you lost any right to complain in which way the war against Galbatorix would be fought when you cut of communication with the outside world," Arya added, causing a ripple of disapproving muttering throughout the hall.

"But that is no longer the case," Islanzadi said, not looking bothered by the reproach. "Silvyr," she motioned towards one of the other elves who ironically had golden hair. "Please start a think tank on how to confound the empire and buy us more time. If the Riders insist on rushing of before they are ready, we must see that there is no need for them for as long as possible."

"I will send out invitations tonight and we can start tomorrow," he smiled, but didn't move from his spot.

"Then I think it is time we hear the full story." Islanzadi said. "By your presence here, so soon after becoming a Rider, I can only assume that Brom is dead?" Eragon nodded. "Please, let us all take a seat to listen."

Helena left the storytelling to Eragon. He had told the story before, and had no trouble doing it again. As the story progressed, all the elves started to shoot appraising looks at her. When Eragon was doing the telling solo, he put much more emphasize on Helena's achievements than when the dragons told it back in Ceris. Helena had saved them in Dras-Leona, ignoring that she had needed saving immediately after that. Helena had saved them from the Ra'zac by freeing Saphira, ignoring the fact that meant Saphira had saved them. Helena had been the one the one most responsible for stopping the Shade both times, ignoring that Arya had been able to fight the Shade fairly and broke Helena's fall with her own body. That Eragon's magic might have saved her from the slaver's arrow would have been glossed over if it wasn't for Saphira's comment. Godric didn't mind his Rider being given most of the credit. It was likely that after tonight all the elves, just like Eragon, would be convinced that Helena was their best hope of defeating Galbatorix, with Eragon being a nice extra.

Helena would have objected more if she hadn't been so preoccupied by the thought that her friends back home would possibly keep searching for her for several years before she could reassure them. She had tried to adjust her expectation, yet the elves had still been her best hope. . . and fear. Helena was disappointed, yes, but a part of her felt relieved as well. Her old friends had been through enough, and she wouldn't want to involve them in this new conflict. Helena feared they'd abandoned their well-earned peace to help her, nor would she now have to explain why she wouldn't return immediately. The juxtaposition of her relief and sadness caused her to spend most of Eragon's explanation staring into nothingness, her focus so deep in introspection that even Godric had trouble following her thoughts.

"So will you join the Varden in their war? Nasuada cannot succeed without your help, and we are pledged to aid them," Eragon pleaded once he explained the aftermath of the battle of _Farthen Dûr,_ _including Nasuada's ascension and plans_.

"This is the chance we have all been waiting for," Arya said, though Helena knew she had had her own reservations about Nasuada's plan.

"I still wish we would have more time, but it seems our only choices are to bind our fate to the coming campaign, or allow our allies to fall," Islanzadi said, and it looked like this was a difficult choice for her. "If you insist on abandoning your education before you are ready. . ." she trailed of meaningfully.

"We do," Eragon said. "Indeed," Helena agreed.

"And what of you, dwarf," Islanzadi addressed Orik. "Does _Hrothgar_ approve and support this plan?"

"He does, and will join the Varden and the Riders in their war, with or without your help. I plead with you, however, because without you our chances will be slim indeed."

 _'Du Weldenvarden failed to commit its forces in the last battle. This might be your last chance to make up for that failure,'_ Saphira commented harshly and her opinion seemed to sway their audience more than anything Orik, Eragon, Helena or even Arya could say.

The queen sighed. "Your point is well taken, Saphira. So yes, we will march to war alongside the Varden and the dwarves." All the member of their party breathed a little easier, which stood in contrast to everyone else at the table who grew tense and solemn at the declaration. "May I see Brom's ring, Eragon." Eragon removed and presented her the ring. "Sharjalví," the queen called and the ring flew out of Eragon's hand, across the table, into Islanzadi's outstretched hand. She held it and held the Sapphire imbedded ring in front of eyes. "This is a token that is only granted to those who we call 'Elf Friend', and should not pass from person to person like an heirloom. Brom should not have given in to you." The queen threw up the ring and caught it in a clenched fist. "However, because of the service you rendered my family in rescuing my daughter, and your efforts in the battle of Farthen Dûr, I name you both Elf Friends." She opened her palm again and two rings now rested in it; Brom's sapphire blue one and one that was identical safe for that it had a ruby instead of a sapphire. "Presents your hands," she ordered to both Riders. They obeyed. "Heim ono vinr älfakyn." The rings flew from her hand and smoothly slid around the Riders. "The name of your ring is Aren, Eragon, and yours is called Lannet, Helena."

Helena looked at the ring with its engraved symbol of a crescent moon with flames burning from its side; the _Yawë_ _, the same symbol that Arya had tattooed unto her shoulder._ It looked both beautiful and expensive and was the fourth piece of jewelry she had been given now. The dwarves had already given her two necklaces and one ring, though they at least didn't have their own names. She hoped this was the last one she'd receive for a while. With both her right ring and middle finger now covered and two necklaces hanging from her neckline she started to worry about looking ostentatious. "Thank you," she nonetheless echoed Eragon's gratitude.

"When will our training begin?" Eragon asked.

"There is no time to waste," Islanzadi said. "I am sure it will start tomorrow."

As Islanzadi finaly exchanged formalities with Orik Helena commented to Godric. _'The way she said it makes it sound like it isn't up to her.'_

 _'If so, he must be powerful, indeed,'_ Godric agreed. _'But remember that nobody here shares your power. I fear you will need to master your powers on your own.'_

' _If so, I might have been better off staying with and helping Nasuada,'_ she said.

 _'I don't think we could have afforded not to come here, and I welcome the chance for us to grow stronger within the safety of the elves' magic forest, even if nobody here can help us. The first clash of armies likely won't happen for a few months and we must use that time to prepare as best we can.'_

Islanzadi addressed her daughter. "Now, Arya, we heard about what happened from Eragon. But I would still like to know what happened to you."

Arya leaned forward and rested her chin on a steeple she made with her fingers and started speaking Elvish, the language of truth.

Again, Helena had a lot trouble following the foreign language. From what she could tell, Arya was describing her capture and subsequent torture in avid detail, sparing no horror. Helena was almost glad she couldn't understand it all. All the other elves on the other hand, Islanzadi most of all, were cringing and shivering all over the place. From the glint in Arya's eye, the elven princess seemed to draw some satisfaction from that.

It was clear to Helena that while Arya may have said she still considered her mother family, she was still incredibly pissed. Helena thought it somewhat unfair after all the lectures she had been given on not annoying her elven host, that Arya seemed to have no trouble doing so herself.

When she finished, Islanzadi's face was ashen. She too, spoke Elvish, and slow and deliberate enough that Helena could follow it. "Arya, daughter, I think I speak for all of us when I say that my heart burns with sorrow for what you have endured. Despite my reservations, I look forward to paying back Gablatorix in blood for his part in this. More even than our sorrow, you have the gratitude and respect of our entire race for keeping the secrets of our home hidden. Few would have the strength to withstand a Shade for so long. For my own part, I still wish you hadn't taken the _Yawë_ _, but none can doubt you are worthy of it._ "

Arya acknowledged the praise with a nod. "Thank you," her voice wasn't as cold as Helena feared it might have been.

"However, my current mood is unsuitable for such a thing," Islanzadi said, looking around at all gathered. "Your return, and the return of the Riders does warrant a celebration. We have all been waiting and hoping for this for a long time. If you feel you are up for it, so soon after your journey?"

Helena wanted to ask if this was another formal dinner like with the dwarves, but didn't. It wasn't like her response could change depending on the answer. Eragon looked at for confirmation and she nodded at him. "We would be honored," Eragon said.

"Excellent. I suspect that most of Ellesméra is waiting outside, eager to hear the result of this meeting." The queen stood. "Would you mind joining me outside? You don't need to say anything if you don't want to, but a brief showing would not be amiss."

"No problem," Eragon said.

Instead of following Islanzadi to the exit, however, Godric and Saphira suggested climbing on their backs and climb out of the open sealing. This appealed to both Riders and soon they were peeking out of the giant wooden dome. The number of elven onlookers had increased from a few dozen to well over a hundredth. Still, if this was most of Ellesméra as had been suggested, the elves were indeed very few in numbers compared to any other race. Islanzadi's magically enhanced voice flew out over the city, likely reaching anyone for miles around.

Helena had expected another feast within the main hall or some other building but she should have known better. Within several minutes the grounds of Ellesméra was covered in small stands and pit fires with elves sitting around in circles.

It seemed that story telling was one of the most prized hobbies in Ellesméra, and Eragon and Helena spend the night being shuffled from one group to the next. All wanting to impress them with their creations. Many also wanted to ask after Helena's place of origin, which had obviously been spread around very quickly. Helena tried to the answer their questions as succinctly as possible, but didn't elaborate beyond what was directly asked. Sadly, she couldn't answer much about the muggle world's politics or evolution, something that they were surprisingly interested in. Still, it was a relief to no longer speak in evasions about these things, though Helena suspected it would get tiresome if it went on for too long. Often Lefean, who had decided to play guide for them, had to cut their talks short so they could move. "To make sure you see as much as possible," he said.

With her newfound openness about her home it was almost inevitable that the only one had been kept in the dark about it would confront her about it. After several hours, Orik finally managed corner her, though Eragon was still with her. "Well. . .?" was all he said.

"Well, you knew I was from very far away," Helena tried weakly.

"Did Hrothgar know?" he demanded.

"I am not sure," Helena said honestly, wrecking her memory on whom was told what. "I told Ajihad, and he said he would inform Hrothgar. I don't know how much he was told. Hrothgar knew I was from far away, but I am not sure he knew the specifics."

"I guess I don't need to know whether, you knew," Orik asked Eragon who smiled sadly. "Barzul! We are supposed to be of one clan."

"It has become very easy not to talk about," Helena admitted. "And I am sorry, if it seems like I didn't trust you." Orik started to look mollified. "And honestly," she continued. "I know it seems like a big deal, but does it actually change anything?"

"For the theologians and scholars it might, but I see your point," Orik sighed. "It's just the principle of the thing. I will tell Hrothgar, of course, if he doesn't already know. And to the rest of Dûrgrimst _Ingeitum._ _"_

"That's honestly fine. I shouldn't have kept it a secret as long as I did. It was just easier to do so."

That seemed to be enough for Orik. "Well to be perfectly honest, I am not sure how many of us would have believed you."

"The elves wouldn't have believed me if it wasn't for their can't-speak-no-lies-language," Helena said.

"Speaking of elves, did you know about Arya being the daughter of the queen? You didn't seem as surprised."

"She probably wasn't," Eragon said before Helena could answer. "This was what you saw in Arya's mind wasn't it? What she asked you not to share?"

"Indeed," Helena said. "Saphira knew as well."

"And I suppose you don't think it's important?" Eragon gave her a dry smile.

"No, I don't," Helena said, sounding tired, even to her own ears. "And from the looks of it, neither does Arya."

"Well she'd better get over it," Eragon frowned. "Letting something like that fester in your family is never a good thing, and that's discounting the whole royal thing. I get that her mother made a mistake, but she clearly still loves her."

"You'll hear no argument from me on that one," Helena said.

"I know that," Arya's voice sounded, making them all jump in surprise. The elf seemed to have appeared from out of nowhere, which from what Helena had seen so far, was not at all uncommon for her race. They all gave the elf contrite looks for talking about her behind her back. "She will have her chance, but seventy years of my life can't be forgotten so easily."

Helena felt she didn't have anything else to add. Judging by their silence, Eragon and Orik didn't either.

"I would like your word not to reveal my relations to Nasuada or Hrothgar. The common tongue will suffice."

"Why keep it a secret?" Eragon asked.

"I am not ashamed if that is what you are wondering. It just doesn't matter. We do not pass our crown down bloodlines, so it doesn't carry the same weight."

"But didn't Evendar used to be king before your mother?" Eragon asked. Evendar was Arya's father and presumably Islanzadi's mate. The subject of the last king and his death at the hand of Galbatorix had eventually come up with Narí and Lefean in their long journey here.

"So he was," Arya confirmed. "And because of the respect he had, our people accepted Islanzadi as their next ruler." There was a moment of silence. "Your word?" she repeated and they gave it.

"Feidra!" Came a familiar croaking voice, and sure enough, Blagden came flying out of the canopy. Only Helena sending a strong gust of wind his way prevented him from landing on her person again.

"What is up with that bird?" Eragon demanded angrily.

Arya too looked exasperated by the raven. "He once saved my father by pecking out the eyes of an Urgal. My father was always generous, and so he blessed him with long life and intelligence."

Helena's jaw fell open. "Your magic can do that? Just like that?"

"Not easily, but for a life that was already that short and simple, yes."

"Then why don't you do that for all humans?"

Arya looked at her coldly. "Because we do not consider the price we'd have to pay worth the gain."

Helena was still not at all satisfied, but didn't press the point further.

"Anyway," Arya continued. "The spell had some side effects. All the color left Blagden's feathers and he was given the gift of foresight."

For all that Brom had insisted on the idea that the magic of the Ancient Language was controlled and logical. This sounded a lot more like the wild barely understood weirdness that her own version of magic was capable off.

"This is like an avian version Trelawney," Helena said, staring suspiciously at the white raven that was currently sitting on a branch and staring at her with beady eyes. "An old teacher of mine that always tried to predict my death," she explained for Arya and Orik's benefit.

"But if this bird has a history of making accurate predictions," Orik trailed of, looking at Arya.

Her silence was telling.

"So are there any other places to visit?" Helena asked in an attempt to do and think anything else. "I admit I am getting somewhat peckish."

As had become the norm, all the food the elves ate and presented was vegetarian. To their credit, it was still delicious and far from monotonous. Eragon confessed he found it somewhat strange though. In human society, being able to afford meat was a sign of wealth. When he asked Helena whether it was the same where she came from, she said that while being able to afford meat wasn't a sign of great wealth, not being able to afford it was a sign of immense poverty. Helena was well aware how much of a paradise her home sounded like to someone like Eragon.

All throughout the evening both Riders had to exchange courtesies with the locals. More and more had steadily showed up as the sun fell lower and lower. As she interacted with them, Helena definitely agreed with Eragon that they were the most alien of any race they met so far. She could almost feel the vast gulf of years separating them like a great chasm. Arya, who was already more than five times as old as Helena, was considered young by elf standards. Helena could tell that they tried to treat her like an adult, but the fact that they had to try said enough.

Eventually, Islanzadi tracked them down. "It is getting late, and I advise you to retire. The others will likely continue for some time, but you will have to rise early in the morning."

They nodded.

"Allow me to show you where you can live during your stay here," she said, and led them towards the less densely populated or planted areas of Ellesméra.

They arrived at a complex of trees connected by globular wooden domes. At the base of the trunk was a spiral staircase that had predictably been grown outward without any obvious sign of tampering besides the obvious abnormality of it.

"It used to belong Vrael and the other leaders of the Rider before him whenever they stayed in Ellesméra. Do you want to share the locale, or do you want separate accommodations?"

Eragon looked at his female counterpart. "Is there more than one bed?" Helena asked, trying to sound casual.

"An extra bed has been provided yes," the queen said, sounding amused.

"Then this is fine," Helena decided. _And now we are living together, great._ As sarcastic as her inner voice sounded, she did find herself liking the idea.

"Then I leave you to it." She gave them a set of keys. "And remember, don't stay up to late." And again, Helena got the feeling like she was a child being told by a matron not to be irresponsible.

The spiral stairway had obviously been built with elves in mind, considering how steep it was, but eventually, and with a cushioning charm on the ground just in case, they reached the trap door at top, both panting slightly. As Eragon pulled her up after climbing up first, Helena took in their new home.

Cozy, was the first word that first thing that came to mind. They stood in a round vestibule with warm brown colors. A lantern similar to what the dwarves used hang from the ceiling, shining warm orange light. A table that for once wasn't built into the tree stood at the center with writing utensils placed neatly at the corner. There were three slide doors. One that led to an austere dining room; one that led to an area with an empty hallow, shaped like the closest thing she had seen to a modern bath since she got here; and one that led to a bedroom. Within the bedroom she could see that a movable dark purple curtain had been built to cut the room in two, one side for each for each Rider. The room was completely open to the elements from one side, and both Saphira and Godric were poking their noses through the opening.

As both Riders stepped in to inspect their bedroom, the light in the room behind them automatically went out and the bedroom lid up as a chimney ignited automatically. They also noticed that the bedroom was larger than any of the other rooms, the reason for which became apparent when they noticed the large piles of wool and blankets stacked on both corners, each large enough to accommodate a dragon.

 _'This is nice, isn't it?'_ Helena asked Godric.

 _'We could stay here for a long time before inevitably getting bored of it,'_ Godric agreed.

"Look here," Eragon said, standing next and pointing to another spiral stairway near the edge of the room. He was already climbing up to explore by the time she got there. After following to what had to be the very top of the building, and through another trap door, they arrived at an enormous rookery, obviously also exposed to the elements.

 _'Godric. Climb to the top,'_ she said and several moments later both Saphira and Godric had broken through the canopy of branches and leaves and stood next to their Riders.

"This is likely a landing zone, isn't it," Eragon said more than asked.

"I know I will be asking Godric to fly me here, instead of having to climb all those stairs every time."

The complex that they stood rose above all but the very highest trees in Ellesméra and they could look out for miles. A truly monstrous tree, rising tree times higher than even their complex, stood at the center of the city, and Helena knew it was one of the few that didn't serve as some elvish home or project of some sort. That was one of the few things that blocked their view from the horizon, colored pink and red from the last rays of the sun. Above them, the moon was already clearly visible, and even a few stars were visible through the scattered light. Below them in the distance, they could still make out several elves celebrating, celebrating their arrival.

An arm went around Helena's midriff and she was pulled closer to Eragon. "We made it, didn't we?"

Helena allowed herself to fall into the embrace and grinned warmly up at him, speaking softly. "No more running or fighting for our lives, at least for a while."

Soon their grinning faces drifted closer together and their lips touched again. Smiling into kiss, their hands ran over each other's backs. After several minutes they broke apart again, neither apparently being brave or decisive enough to push for more than some light patting at that moment. Helena felt randy all the way back to her own bed. This tension was starting to become unbearable! It was made even worse by the fact that she didn't dare relieve herself like she had done after their episode in Tarnag, because of how close their beds were and how thin that curtain between them looked.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Despite being tense when she went to sleep, she couldn't feel more rested when she woke up, slightly before dawn even. After straining her ears, she noticed that Eragon was still sleeping soundly. She grabbed her clothes and went towards the room with the hallowed floor to confirm her suspicions. On the way, she noticed that a new tunic had been provided for both Riders, stacked neatly on top of the table in the living room, alongside two filled fruit baskets. Out of curtesy and a desire for something new she decided to humor her hosts and gabbed the smaller ones before moving on to the hallowed room. Sure enough, she found two nozzles, one for hot and one for cold water. She preferred the convenience of having just two nobs, one for volume and one for temperature, but this was still better than what the last few months had given her.

After making sure to Colloportus the door shut to avoid any potential shenanigans, she proceeded to wash herself in comfort and ease. Staying in way longer than was strictly necessary. Even when she heard Eragon waking up and climbing out of bed.

"Helena!" he called out. Helena heard his voice muffled through the water because her ears were mostly submerged.

Helena righted herself, and let her fingers move through the long fiber of her hair; it had grown messy and she'd have to cut it soon if she wanted to maintain any semblance of style. "I am here! I'll be there in fifteen minutes."

Twenty minutes later she was pulling on the clothes that had been provided for her and inspecting herself in the mirror that took up a good chunk of the wall. Besides the jewelry, she wore a long robe of a brownish red without any adornments. A simple fiber robe tied to her waist as a belt, and her pants consisted of two separate pipes unlike a dress. Helena thought she looked remarkably like a monk in these clothes. She admitted that the simplicity of it appealed to her, especially since it was what seemed to be a common fashion from what she had seen last night.

When she slit the room open she found Eragon sitting at the table. He was already dressed in the same clothes that had been provided for him, although his were of an understated blue. An amusing nod towards their respective dragon's she was sure.

"Did you sleep well?" she said while dropping herself into the chair opposite him. She pulled one of fruit baskets that were also filled with small cakes towards herself.

"You have no idea," Eragon said heavily. "Did you conjure the water for yourself?" He asked while nodding at her still somewhat wet hair.

"No. The water comes automatically, somehow. I'll show you later, I promise."

 _'That might need to wait,'_ she heard Godric from within her mind. _'The dwarf is here.'_

Sure enough, a few seconds later a knocking sound could be heard from the trap door.

"Come in," Eragon yelled and Orik's bearded face appeared out of the floor, muttering something under his breath about heights.

"Good morning. Did you sleep well?" They muttered an affirmative and returned the question politely. "Eat up and try to be quick. Arya, the queen and a host of other elves are standing at the base, waiting for you." He fixed them with a worried glance. "They all seem unusually tense. Something important is happening and we don't know what."

After gobbling up a few cakes, a few grapes, a hardboiled egg, and pocketing an apple for later they allowed the dragons to carry them from their bedroom to the ground. Sure enough, both Islanzadi and Arya were there. Helena and Eragon both tried to give her the traditional greeting, but she turned around before they could so much as bring their fingers to their mouths. "Follow me," she said shortly.

Both humans gave each other an equally perplexed look and did as ordered. "Are we going to meet our teacher?" Eragon asked but was ignored.

The next thirty minutes they walked in silence and Helena could almost taste the anticipation in the air. Soon the tree's ones again grew denser and the signs of elven influence in the weird growth patterns grew scarcer.

Islanzadi paused at a small hill. "Before we go any further, I must demand your oath in the Ancient Language never to reveal what you are about to see. Unless you receive permission either, from me, my daughter, or whomever should succeed us. Without that, I am afraid I cannot allow you to continue."

Helena wondered what they would do if she should refuse and agree to turn back. She wondered but didn't truly consider; there was no point in being contrary. Godric was annoyed, but didn't think it worth protesting either.

Orik didn't seem to agree. "Why should I gag myself?" Nor did Saphira. _'Do you not trust us?'_

"This is as much for your safety as for ours. What you promise in words of power not to reveal, you cannot do unless your very mind is broken. This is not a matter of trust, but of safety. This is our greatest advantage over Galbatorix and must be protected at all costs. Those of you who refuse, might as well return to the Varden, though I beg you to see reason."

"I will abide," Helena said. _'As will I,'_ Godric grumbled. "Just tell us what to say. . . and what I am saying." She still didn't trust herself to perfectly translated any oath.

Eragon and Saphira, too, agreed, and after some bluster, so did Orik. _  
_  
Islanzadi nodded as if this was only expected and taught them what to say. "Then we can proceed." The elves climbed up the small hill, beckoning the rest forward.

When Helena reached the top, she found herself looking over a giant cliff, at least a league wide in either direction. Below her, a forest stretched out until it became a green line on the horizon.

 **Thud.** A familiar sound like thunder reverberated through her body, making her stumble both from it and the implication.

 **Thud.** _It can't be!_ She thought, feeling a cold shiver run down her spine.

Yet it was so. From below the cliff rose a giant golden dragon with a Rider on his back. A Rider from the old order. A Rider with a dragon well over trice Godric's size. A Rider, whose order she had regularly criticized. A Rider, from an order whose rules and traditions she had knowingly broken.

Helena gulped.

* * *

 **AN: You have chapters that you have to write and then you have chapters that you want to write. The Eragon POV chapter from last time was the latter. This chapter was definitely the former. Very little character beyond what we already know, rethreading canon, and a bunch of discriptions. When people say they look forward to the elves, it's this new/old Rider they are excited about. Not the endless parade of trees.**

A recommendation from me, which I have again forgotten about for some time, is A Long Journey Home by Rakeesh. If you like female Harry stories, you have probably already read this one, since it is wildly considered to be the best in that genre, but if you haven't, try it.


	27. Murtagh

**This chapter would have been almost unreadable without CerealReader going over to correct the many many flaws.**

* * *

Murtagh angrily kicked a rock on the road, sending it flying across a steep hill and crash to the ground with a satisfying bang.

He had no idea where he was going, only that it brought him further and further from both the Varden and the Empire. Humans had originally come from a land beyond Alagaësia. If he got absurdly lucky, he'd run into them. Make a new life for himself and hopefully die of old age before the empire's expansion inevitably reached him. In which case, Eragon and Helena would also be dead or enslaved. . .

 _Fucking dammit,_ Murtagh cursed within the comforts of his own mind. He still felt like he owed them, and leaving them like he had left a sour taste in his mouth.

Murtagh had always considered himself a good man.

Hells, compared to the snakes in the capital he was a fucking saint. Being the son of a Forsworn had brought him many enemies, but it also came with a prestige that was uniquely his. Even those that didn't know of his relation to Morzan knew that he was favoured. Galbatorix never met with him personally until he was older, but he did decree that Murtagh be given a generous stipend. For Galbatorix, who could be called an aloof and distant ruler at best, to take an interest in Murtagh was enough to make him the closest thing to a prince Uru'Baen had. Yes, Murtagh knew he had overplayed his own suffering growing up when discussing his past with Eragon. At least once his father finally died, but he hardly remembered that time except for a vague terror and a reflex to put his back to the wall whenever he thought back on it.

His comforts didn't bring him any friends however, or well. . . depending on one's definition 'friend', he supposed. Most children were told to be wary and many were distrustful and jealous. What few _'friends'_ he did have were only there on their parent's order. There were even a handful of noble girls sent to see if they could catch his interest. He was thankful that he had been a late bloomer, or he might have fallen for those before he became wiser. Though his lack of true friends was partly his fault, he was eventually forced to admit. Growing up without any parental figure, and told he could essentially do whatever he wanted so long as he didn't get in the way, made him a terror as a child.

Beyond that, his status as the only ward of the crown implied certain powers. Powers that he didn't actually have, but people assumed that he did. Whenever somebody thought anything was wrong with the empire, which was always, they seemed to blame him. As if fixing the mess that was Galbatorix's realm was somehow his responsibility. Galbatorix never so much as spoke to him for the longest time; how was Murtagh supposed to have any influence over the man's actions? Suffice it to say, Murtagh grew more than a bit resentful over the years.

It would have continued like that if he hadn't picked Tornac as his blade master. The man was reputed to be the best and most popular swords master in Ûru'Bean, so naturally, Murtagh wanted him for himself. And he had been rich enough to afford him. Tornac never lecture him about being a spoiled brat. If fact, he treated him very distantly at first. Nor was Murtagh inspired by Tornac's own sense of fairness and integrity. If anything, that just made him an idiot in Murtagh's mind at the beginning. No, what prompted a change was seeing how others treated Tornac. Unlike every other adult that Murtagh had known, Tornac never seemed to need to prove himself to anyone. Nobody questioned him but believed him when he said he would or wouldn't do something. People were glad to see him when he showed up.

Murtagh had wanted that for himself so he began to imitate the man's behaviour. Tornac had taken notice and started treating him more personably; more student and mentor, rather than client and employer.

"The trick, young Murtagh, is to show people you are neither a predator nor a potential victim," Tornac had said to him one day. "And the easiest way to show people that is to be neither. Few can act like someone other than themselves for large amounts of time, and I know I wouldn't want to. Always keep your word, both in promises and threats, and remember to give aid and be respectful if it isn't too much trouble. You're not going to become Galbatorix' right hand man without screwing people over, but you are also less likely to get stabbed and left in a ditch somewhere."

"Low risks, low rewards," The younger version of himself had commented.

"Oh, there are plenty of rewards," Tornac had smirked. "You live longer. Some people might actual like you, and just between you and me, I don't think a smart man would want to be anywhere near the throne."

That was all well and good, but that only worked if people hadn't already made up their mind about you. Murtagh's situation didn't change. He was still Morzan's son and blamed for his father's deeds. A lot of people even blamed him for Galbatorix's failings. Tornac's vision had appeal, but it couldn't happen in Ûru'Bean; at least not for him. It was around that time that his dream of running away first took root in his mind. He wanted to earn what he had, and be seen for himself. It started small. Murtagh requested an opportunity from Lord Berengar, steward of Ûru'Bean, to leave the capital and explore the world.

Berengar agreed and offered to have him join the army. Not as a soldier, but more like a. . . squire? Helper? Tourist? It boiled down to the fact that he didn't need to swear any oaths and was allowed to experience the military life and back out without consequence if he didn't like it. So off he went to _Gil_ _'_ _ead_.

That was one point that he never dared to share with either Helena or Eragon. That he, their traveling companion, son of Morzan, had nearly joined the empire's military and become their official enemy of his own free will.

It was fun. True he wasn't truly accepted among the soldiers because of his freedom, but he was allowed to prove himself. That and he was hardly the only one there with special privileges. Many noble and rich merchant sons wanted to experience a bit of adventure, and the army was happy to let them if it got them extra funds and support. Especially because Galbatorix tended to forget that he had an army at times after he had won the throne. The king tended to just give them a general mission goal of protecting the empire and then let them do their own thing.

When the Varden called Galbatorix a dictator, Murtagh had only barely managed to contain his laughter to within the confines of his own mind. Galbatorix was a terrible king, true, but he wasn't a tyrant. He just didn't give a shit about his kingdom. Surprising, considering all the trouble he went through to get it. Murtagh hadn't lied when he had told the two riders about Gablatorix's tendency to let his nobles handle everything. If anything, he had understated it. If the ruler of the empire made three public appearances in a year, that wasn't unusual. The black king spends nearly all of his time in his own personal study, doing some super-secret magic stuff, if the rumours were to be believed.

The point was, the empires main army was autonomous most the time and needed to take care of itself, including funds. Unfortunately, that tended to take the form of extortion of the empires own citizens when the money coming from Ûru'Bean wasn't enough. It was never enough.

Murtagh enjoyed the missions he was sent on, mostly dealing with Urgal incursions. It made him feel like he was doing something worthwhile. He also enjoyed the combat and thrill of battle more than he probably should.

That enjoyment faded when he was put on 'tax collecting duty', as they called it. They might have saved some of these people, but chickens don't thank the butcher for keeping the foxes away. Yes, the army really did need money and food, but thanks to empires lousy bureaucracy, the burden always fell on whatever unfortunate village was within throwing distance. The whole empire could support a standing army without too much difficulty, but a single village could not.

If only Galbatorix would get off his lazy ass throne and do his fucking job! The empire could work no problem. The only times he seemed to get involved was when the empire was truly about to collapse under its own corruption or outside threats. He would then employ heavy handed measures to punish the guilty, and fix things just enough to keep things going, but not enough to ensure it didn't happen again. Like he couldn't be bothered to do more than a half-assed job. Throughout his reign, Galbatorix has executed four generals of the empire's army when they got delusions of grandeur due to their autonomy, but he didn't really change anything besides that. The only times Galbatorix took anything seriously was when people spoke positively about the old Rider Order or when magic was involved. Those seemed to be his trigger points.

Once he learnt that he was essentially part of a giant protection racket, Murtagh went back to the capital, thoroughly disillusioned.

He spend another year there, holding himself above the petty games of the rich and influential. He only had to deal with two plots on his life as a result, which were easily settled with honor duels, a.k.a semi-mutually agreed death matches. He only dealt with those that were directly responsible for the attacks on his person, and not their associates or family, despite that usually biting him in the ass.

For Murtagh had always considered himself a good man.

He had just decided to leave and seek his fortune elsewhere when the king himself sent him an invitation to dine with him in person. _'A chance to see who the son of my old friend has become'_ , was the pretext. Though Murtagh wanted to distance himself from his father's reputation as much as he could, he also wanted the chance to speak to Galbatorix. The young man had many questions and this was his only chance to get some answers.

The king had possessed a pleasant demeanor, asking him about his life and his lessons like an attentive uncle, even though they barely knew each other. Murtagh had answered the question as politely as he could, feeling very awkward. He tried to make his answers as short as possible – 'yes, your majesty', 'fine, your majesty', 'maybe, your majesty', 'it could be better, your majesty' – but Galbatorix kept asking for clarification. The king absolutely refused to acknowledge the fact that they were strangers, and that they shouldn't ask sensitive questions about the others life. Unsettling was probably the best word for it.

Eventually Murtagh had been able to turn the conversation around to what he wanted. He demanded to know why Gablatorix did so little. Why did he allow the potential of the empire to go to waste? Why didn't he do anything about the rampant corruption? Why had he been willing to spill rivers of blood to get throne if wasn't going to do anything with it?

All the while he ranted, Galbatorix had looked at Murtagh in fond amusement. Like the entire empire was a joke that only he understood or appreciated. "Trust me young Murtagh, there is a reason," had been the king's only response.

When it became clear he wasn't going to get a satisfactory explanation, despite Murtagh's prodding, he remained mulishly silent during the rest of the dinner until he was allowed to leave.

'yup,' Murtagh had thought as went back to his chambers. _'The rumours are true. Our king is completely crazy.'_ After having Tornac listen to his ranting about the crazy old man who was supposed to be in charge of everything, he brought up the idea of leaving the empire to seek their own fortunes elsewhere

Before leaving however, both Murtagh and Tornac decided to do one last good deed by investigating rumours of flesh eating monster terrorizing travellers on the road. For some reason, everyone in the garrison had been told not to investigate on pain of the king's displeasure. Since Murtagh and Tornac decided they were going to leave anyway, they figured they might as well go out on a high note.

Because, as mentioned before, Murtagh considered himself a good person.

The Ra'zac had proven to be too much for them to handle, however, and Tornac was killed and Murtagh barely escaped with his life and freedom. Murtagh had heard legends of beings who far surpassed human capability, but he had never seen one before that moment. Knowing he had earned their wrath and knowing he wasn't a match, he decided to search for those that might have some chance of helping him.

Searching for the Riders had been a desperate gamble. Rumors of new Riders tended to pop up every year or so. They were always false, and this time it was likely no different.

Yet there they had been, not one but two riders and their dragons, all of them already captured by the Ra'zac by the time he arrived. Murtagh had just been about to give them up as a lost cause when a magic light blinded the Ra'zac, and Murtagh as well. By the time his sight returned, which happened sooner for him than the Ra'zac, one dragon had already been flying off with one Rider, a Ra'zac mount in pursuit.

Murtagh had knocked an arrow on his bow in the event off an opportunity, which had eventually presented itself. Thanks to the blue dragon who choose to stay and fight, they had managed to survive. And just like that, Murtagh had come face to face with legends come to life.

Murtagh had stayed with them, partly because they could protect him from the Ra'zac, partly because he wanted to spend time with people his own age that didn't yet know who he was, and partly because. . . well. . . they were Riders! Legends from a time long past!

Eragon had been a joy. A tad naïve when it came to the wider world, but with a good head on his shoulder. He was also one of the few who could hold his own against Murtagh in a sword fight, despite being three years his junior. Eragon was also a great listener who was always interested in what Murtagh had to say. The dark haired young man couldn't recall a time where he grew fond of another person that quickly. He had been like the bright-eyed younger brother he had never had. A comparison that later proved to be extremely ironic.

The woman had been an enigma. She didn't fit into any of the categories in which Murtagh placed the people he met. She didn't even fit into any heroine stereotypes from the old tales that the bards sang of. Helena had just been weird.

Both were way too idealistic to be healthy, but that didn't bother him. New adventurers always started out idealistic. Even he had been idealistic at one point. They were obviously still new to the wider world of Alagaësia, and would learn in time.

Eragon, surprisingly, was the one who had been charge of their little group. Murtagh knew he himself would have been better suited for the role, despite not being a Rider, and it was obvious that Helena would also be a more self-assured leader. He had seen Helena visibly hold herself back from stepping on Eragon's toes when they needed to make any sort of decision. It had soon become obvious what they were doing. Allowing the youngest of them some room to stretch his wings. How cute. Murtagh wondered if Eragon ever realized that was what they were doing.

Just as surprising was the relationship between the two Riders. That Eragon was infatuated with Helena, Murtagh could understand, but he was surprised the interest was mutual. When the nineteen year old man had first joined the group, he had made some tentative advances towards the female rider and been met with cool politeness that he translated to 'not interest, back off'. Murtagh knew from experience that he exuded a sort of roguish charm that many women found irresistible. Especially the adventurous ones, which Helena obviously was. Those didn't normally go for the nice and innocent, but to each their own. Once it became obvious that Helena would be uncomfortable if he continued, Murtagh backed off.

For Murtagh had always considered himself a good man.

The longer he spent around them, however, the higher the standard you needed to meet to call yourself a good man became. Eventually those standards became as high the moon and just unreachable. Again, Murtagh tried to ignore it because obviously their many scruples were born of inexperience and they would learn in time.

Despite occasionally feeling like he was traveling with two priests for how idealistic they were, Murtagh couldn't recall a time where he had been more content. He was free and surrounded by friends who didn't know his damning past. Murtagh imagined them traveling the world together, going on adventures and not beholden to anyone. It was a fantasy and he knew it. Both Riders seemed determined to throw their lives away fighting the empire. Eragon because he wanted to save his home – as if his goal didn't necessitate killing every able-bodied man in the empire that would end up being drafted – and some vague sense of bringing justice to Galbatorix for crimes a century old. And Helena wanted to fight the empire because. . . well simply because. She didn't seem to have much of a reason. She should be focusing on getting back to her magical home, instead of throwing herself in yet another war.

Murtagh couldn't even understand why Helena had even bothered to fight in that civil war she faced back home. Murtagh knew that he never would have gone as far to save a world that had caused him such misery. He would have grabbed this Hermione, the Weasley family, and whatever other people he cared about and fled to some other land. It would all sort itself out in time. From what she had told him, this Voldemort had treated even his own subjects appallingly and inflicting him on people that couldn't be bothered to save themselves seemed like a fine jest. Perhaps they would eventually all wise up and leave as well. Anyway, he knew that he wouldn't have felt responsible to save everyone simply because a prophecy said so. Risk himself to save his friends, probably, but taking your friends into battle sort of defeats the purpose of keeping them safe.

Until Helena shared her story, he had assumed her naivety came from inexperience. He had doubted her claim of fighting in a war before, or else she had only been in the periphery of one. Nobody who had seen great bloodshed and strife could still view the world in the way Helena did.

After Helena had shared her story, Murtagh had come to an unsettling realization. Helena was simply crazy and Eragon was looking to go the same way. Murtagh considered himself a good person and he knew the warm and fuzzy feeling of doing something good, but there were limits. Helena had to be crazy. She simply had to be. For Murtagh's own sake, she had to be crazy.

Murtagh had always wanted to consider himself a good man.

Suddenly, Murtagh felt the need to sit down against a tree and rest for a while.

 _They have to be crazy. They have to be._ It was a good fifteen minutes before he could find the will to move again.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

After using the moment of rest to take stock of his supplies – as long as he could hunt his own food and find water, he could go for weeks – he continued his journey towards nowhere.

After the second day, he began to wish for someone to talk to. He wasn't really craving for company yet, but he knew he would get there eventually. That was problematic considering the journey was meant to take him away from civilization. The more he thought about it, the less the reality of life in isolation appealed to him. Maybe he should have thought about this some more.

Oh well, he could find his way back even if he tried. Not paying attention to the road he took had been a deliberate way of cutting all ties. Even if he could go back, he knew he couldn't. The humiliation would be too much.

Another potential problem emerged when he spotted giant footprints on the ground. And by giant he meant dragon sized, though they were shaped more like a bear's. When he had first laid eyes on the Beor Mountains he had wondered if the beasts that made it their home were scaled along with it. He hadn't been worried at the time; they had two dragons with them.

Now on the other hand, it seemed he had his answer and nobody but himself to rely on. Murtagh knew he was a decent hunter, and he had gone into the wilds before, but rarely alone. He had still very much spent the majority of his life in a city. Other disaster scenarios played out in his head. Poisonous snakes and fruits, disease carrying bugs. . .

Okay, he definitely should have thought this one through before throwing an ultimatum at Eragon and Helena. Perhaps he could have pushed harder for a horse? That would have allowed him to leave the Beor Mounthains a lot faster.

He needed to keep going until he found a river or some sort. A place that could sustain him for a long time. Eragon had explained the basics of farming to him. How difficult could it be?

He noted the way the footprint was pointing and went in the opposite direction. Every direction was as wild and clear of human life as any other.

After another day of traveling under the shadow of the mountains, nothing but his own thoughts for company, he noticed plumes of smoke in the distance in the waning hours of the day. It was either a camp fire, or the beginning of a full-blown forest fire. Considering how damp it was. . . probably people, or Urgals.

Considering that any party he encountered could only outnumber him, he crouched low to the ground, and moved from tree to tree. He considered using the tall bushes as cover, but he doubted his ability to not make any sounds if he tried that. Also, the possibility of bugs and snakes was still a concern.

He soon started to hear distinctly feminine voices that couldn't possibility belong to Urgals. He considered revealing himself openly, but dismissed the idea. These people were probably part of the Varden, and he was likely still wanted for the murder of their leader. Knowing it was probably a needlessly risky move, he snuck closer anyway.

He succeed in moving stealthily enough not to be seen by the time he could take stock of the stranger's camp. There were four of them, all sitting around a campfire, and all of them women or girls. Probably family judging by their resemblance. All had dirty curly blond hair and cleft chins, except for the twelvish child who was a little more brownish. An older woman, one teenager, and two children. He estimated their ages to be somewhere in the forties, seventeenish, twelvish, and somewhere around eight respectively. All of them had a certain hunched posture to them that gave them a distinctly unhappy look.

Knowing that he could probably overcome this small group even if they proved hostile, he moved out of the cover of the tree he was hiding behind, deliberately making loud footsteps so they couldn't fail to notice him.

They all tensed like deers that just spotted a lion. "Hazel!" the oldest called out and the smallest child scrambled to the safety of what was probably her mother protection. The twelvish year old had already been at the back of the camp and stared at him with wide cautious eyes. The one who was closest to him in age had pulled a knife from somewhere and stood up to face him. From her frozen posture and the way she held her small knife it was immediately apparent that the young woman had no training with it whatsoever. He knew he could slap the weapon out of her hand if she panicked and got stupid.

"What is such a vulnerable group doing all the way out here?" He gave voice to his thoughts. _Either that, or the men of this group are close by._

"Who are you?" The likely mother demanded, ignoring his own question.

He blinked, pretending to be surprised by her question while his mind furiously thought of a false name. "I am Sloan," he eventually said, remembering the name from some of the tales Eragon told him.

"What are you doing here?" Was the next question.

 _Good question_ , Murtagh thought. What was he even doing here? "Just exploring," he shrugged.

"Are you with the Varden?" the twelvish year old girl asked him before the mother could shush her.

Murtagh smiled sardonically. "Depends on who is asking," he lied.

The demeanour of the group relaxed slightly at what he implied.

"We were– _are_ on our way to Surda," the mother confessed. Now that her eyes were no longer filled with suspicion, Murtagh could see the tiredness in them.

 _On the way to Surda,_ Murtagh thought, bewildered, _either they are lost or I am not as lost I planned to be._

"Is that also where you are headed," she continued to ask him.

"No," he said simply and her face fell in disappointment. "Are you lost?"

They didn't answer, but their defeated expressions said it all. "Did you get separated from the large group that got sent away before the battle?"

"So you _are_ with the Varden," she said, relaxing her guard even further and continuing to ignore his own questions.

Murtagh tsked in annoyance. "I fought in the battle of Tronjheim, yes," The youngest two girls looked at him with admiration and the eldest had her knife hanging harmlessly at her side while looking as relieved as her mother. "And now I would like some answers of my own. Who are you people, and why are you not with the group that Lady Nasuada organized."

"Of course, I am Garnet Burner. And these are my children," she paused and he saw in her miserable expression the words _'that I have left'._ "This is Jasmine Burner," Garnet motioned towards the eldest.

"I am glad you found us," Jasmine confessed, and Murtagh immediately realized he was likely to be asked to help them somehow.

"And these two are Rose and Hazel Burner," Garnet introduced the other two in order of decreasing age. "Please join us by the fire." She looked at her eldest daughter, who vacated her own dry piece of wood for him to sit on while she went to look for something else.

 _Yep, they definitely need my help,_ he thought as he took the offered seat. "Is this truly all of you?" He asked, again wondering if the men might be out scouting or hunting, unlikely though that was. More likely they were dead.

By the way the mother flinched, he knew he was right. "Yes."

"Dad, Barric, and Kolby died fighting the monsters," Rose confessed dejectedly. Murtagh found his heart going out to the poor girl as she stared at the ground.

 _Please, please, don't have them start crying._ He knew that it was likely, though. If they had died during the recent battle than their loss wasn't even two weeks old. Not enough time for the wounds to heal.

The mother began her story. "It was foolish. We knew word would be sent about who survived, but we needed to see for ourselves. Elder Sabrae warned us it was a bad idea, but we didn't listen, and she didn't want to force us. So we returned, and found my husband and my two sons among the casualties."

"They said they joined the Varden so they could give us a better life," Jasmine snorted, having rolled a rock over to sit on. "So much for that idea."

It was an uncharitable thing to say, Murtagh knew, but since none of the others called her out on it, she wasn't the only one to think it.

"Are you a scout? Patrol? Are you alone?" Jasmine asked him in rapid succession.

"I am indeed alone," and that was the only question he could answer safely.

"And?"

Murtagh knew he couldn't keep pretending _._ "I left."

A short uncomfortable silence descended on them as they considered his answer.

"Of course he left. He is out here, isn't he?" Hazel chimed, naïvely confused in the way young children easily are.

"You deserted?" Jasmine guessed, not sounding accusing. Yet.

"After the battle, yes," Murtagh confirmed.

"After the battle?" Jasmine repeated, baffled. "You were brave enough to fight, and strong enough to survive, yet you left afterwards?"

"It's complicated." He wondered if they knew about his supposed murder of Ajihad. "How long have you been in the road?" A poor choice of words in hindsight; there wasn't a road in sight.

"Over a week now," Jasmine answered before giving her mother a glare.

"None of us were thinking right after–" The words got stuck in Garnet's throat. "Well we wanted to get away, and didn't think too far ahead."

"Can you help us get to Surda? Or even back to Tronjheim? We are hopelessly lost and running out food," Jasmine pleaded to him.

"I'm afraid I am just lost as you are," he told her with an apologetic smile, and their faces fell. "I wanted a new start so I just set out and followed my nose."

"That's incredibly stupid," Jasmine looked at him balefully. "Between the steep cliffs, the poisonous plants, and the wildlife you're lucky to last a few weeks in these valleys."

 _And you are lucky to have lasted as long as you did._ "These mountains ranges can't stretch on forever. If I last long enough, I'll find my way out eventually." It would be hard, and he'd need luck, but it wasn't impossible for him. For this small family that had just lost all its men, and had two children to protect, it was impossible. Judging by their hanging heads, they knew it too.

Little Hazel started sniffing, followed by sobbing, and then heart wrenching crying.

Murtagh had always considered himself a good man. "I'll see you safely out of the mountains," he said, dreading the new burden as he did so. His prospects had looked grim enough without having to take care of a bunch of damsels in destress.

"Thank you," The mother said he she rubbed the back of the crying child.

xxxxxxxxxxx

The first thing he did was find out just what their new combined resources were. Alone, Murtagh had enough to support himself for weeks, if he could find water and the occasional rabbit. Now. . . there had better be a lot of rabbits in these mountains.

From Jasmine he learned that had been less than a year since this family made it to the Varden. That particular journey had lasted nearly half a year and drained them of whatever savings they had. He also learned just why they decided to join the Varden in the first place. Apparently, Jasmine's father had been a charcoal burner, hence why they all took Burner as a family name. They lived in the northern eastern part of the empire near a town called Greenwater, right at the edge of Du Weldenvarden and Isenstar Lake. Most of their produce was used as fuel for blacksmiths who supplied the empire's soldiers. Forced cheap labor from criminals – read those who couldn't pay the bribes or fines – competed their family out of business. They tried to relocate, but most of the industry in the big cities was run by insular guilds that weren't friendly to newcomers. Forced to pay fines for cutting trees they weren't supposed to, they could either use up what remained of their savings or make a run for it. Disillusioned with the empire, they did the second and managed to make it across the border to Surda. While Murtagh knew that Surda couldn't act too openly with sheltering refugees from the _Broddring Empire, it could and did occasionally play dumb and deny having seen any such people. So long as the people involved weren't too high profile, they got away with it._

"We arrived just as Saphira's egg was carried towards the Varden for the last time," Jasmine spoke to him with an almost reverent remembrance. "My father and brothers were all allowed to hold the egg, and they even allowed me to hold it–

 _her_ _– for a while." Her expression fell. "But she wasn't interested in us. One unborn dragon's decision, determine whether one can be a hero or not."_

 _Helena would probably say something about not needing superpowers to be a hero._ _He snorted._ _Easy for her to say._ _Jasmine looked at him curiously with tired light brown eyes. "Don't worry about it." He handed his bow to her. Jasmine was the most physically fit of the group after him, so he would try and make use of her. She seemed willing enough to learn. "Stand over there," he pointed towards a more respectable distance from the makeshift bullseye he had carved in a tree._

"Not that I'm not grateful, but is there a purpose to this? You only have one bow, and I doubt you'll give it to me."

 _A fair point._ _"I want someone on watch at night when I sleep. You can use it then. Besides, learning this will make you more self-reliant."_

"We have barely been getting enough sleep as it is," she complained miserably.

"And you'll sleep better knowing someone is watching over you now," he groused. "And I will sleep better if someone is making sure some wolf doesn't bite my throat in my sleep." Even if that someone is a helpless damsel, like this one was acting. "Now knock the arrow."

It quickly became apparent that Jasmine wouldn't be becoming a master marksmen anytime soon. Murtagh knew that he was a good teacher, and she would get there in time, but his concern was surviving the next couple of weeks. Still, he kept at it, if only to occasionally distract himself from their current situation.

 _That_ _and the eldest daughter of the family wasn't terrible company. Her poor fortune had left her bitter, which Murtagh found relatable. Not to mention that within a day it became obvious that, consider the way she looked at him, the girl was getting_ _'ideas'_ _about him. Murtagh was unsurprised; he was being her hero in a very real sense, after all. Perhaps if he managed to escape this forest he could eventually start his own tribe with her; become a warlord. There might even be other woman like Jasmine he would flock to him for protection with so much violence and war in the world._

He could almost feel disapproving green eyes staring at the back of his neck.

 _Oh shut up! I am helping them, aren't I!_

 _"Is something wrong?" Jasmine asked, and only then did Murtagh realize his face was contorted in a grimace._

He schooled his features. "There is nothing wrong. I'm just thinking about the direction we'll take," he lied.

"Have you decided yet?"

But he had thought about that before. "Down." At her questioning look, he elaborated. "We what water we carry will soon run out. Water flows down, so we will have a higher chance of survival if we stick to the low valleys."

"Oh," she looked surprised. "That's sounds smart."

Murtagh hoped that it

 _was_ _smart, because truthfully, he was just guessing._

At the end of that day Murtagh discovered that traveling downward was both a good and bad idea. It was good because the increase in animal tracks indicated this area was more hospitable to life. And it was a bad idea for much the same reason; it was hospitable to life, dangerous predatory life. Thankfully, he hadn't encountered anymore giant bear prints, but he did find some that might belong to a group of large wolves.

They hadn't gotten anywhere near as far as he would have liked, and he knew he could have gotten twice as far if he were alone. The major contributor in their slow pace was little Hazel. Her endurance was fine, for her age, but her stride was naturally short. In an effort to increase their speed, he actually allowed her to ride his back but that resulted in _him_ become too tried.

The Burner family did try to get him to talk to himself, and he did appreciate not being alone anymore, but he just didn't want to talk about _himself_. There were two living people in the world that didn't mind his relationship to Morzan, and he had already abandoned them. Instead, Murtagh deflected, and tried to get the others to talk more about themselves. Murtagh congratulated himself about letting them talk about their deceased father and brother and so get over their loss. At least he hoped it had that effect; everyone processed grief differently; his usually took the form of anger.

What he wasn't happy with, though, was their talk about the Empire. Murtagh, he himself had slowly come to realize, was a bit of a contrarian. When living in _Urû_ _'_ _baen, he had held every noble and ruler there in contempt, and was convinced that the world would be better without them and Galbatorix. However, when he was traveling alongside Eragon and Helena, their naïve idealism had prompted him to play devil's advocate. He had refused to join the Varden on the grounds that nothing of importance would chance if the impossible happened and they won. He had abandoned both the Varden and his only friends on the grounds that he didn't believe in their cause. Yet it was becoming harder and harder to hold on to that with every new tale_ Garnet and Jasmine told him. Besides exposure of the myth that was any legal protection the empire offered its regular citizens that their family had experienced for themselves, they also had tales of woe from other groups that fled the empire. Like searches out like, and many of the people that had fled the empire knew each other, and often their stories. One of the most common arguments Murtagh had when defending the empire was that Eragon and those in _Carvahall_ _were hardly that bad off or oppressed, at least from the stories Eragon himself shared. But Carvahall was a relatively small hamlet right at the edge of imperial territory. Only Ceunon, from where Lord Hamlin oversaw that region, including Carvhall, was further away from the capital and Hamlin had a reputation from being very hands off. Was it really that much of defense if the village that was the furthest away from imperial influence also experienced the fewest problems? At least Teirm and the coastal cities were still relatively decent. Merchants that 'secretly ' supported Surda or the Varden may go under, but you could hardly blame the empire for undermining traitors within their ranks, could you?_

Murtagh really wanted to claim to have been born in Surda or just among the Varden, just so he could avoid having to come up with some horror story of his own, but feared he'd be discovered eventually.

If you were going to tell a lie that had to last, make it as close to the truth as possible. "Both my father and mother were servants of the empire. I won't mention their names, they deserve to be forgotten." He didn't hate his mother as much as his father, but he held no great love for her either. Really, couldn't she have picked a better man for herself? She was beautiful by all accounts, so she couldn't have been lacking for options. And couldn't she have hidden Murtagh away the same way she had apparently managed to hide Eragon away? "I grew up in

Urû'baen, but I grew disillusioned, as you did. Before I left, I – my mentor and I – decided to give the empire a bloody nose by going after their prized servants, the Ra'zac. Have you heard of them?" They nodded, and Murtagh silently preened under their admiring gazes. Truthfully, Murtagh had no idea that the Ra'zac worked for Galbatorix when he went after them. He only learned that later from Eragon. "Well, suffice it to say, they were more powerful than we expected. My mentor died, and I just barely escaped with my life." And this was how far he could go without bullshiting everything. "I think the reason I got away was that the Ra'zac got word of the Riders being in the empire. I must have looked very small fry compared to them."

"Helena and Eragon, right? That was them right?" Rose the twelve year old jogged to so she walked parallel to him. "We met them once!"

"Truly?" Murtagh said, trying to match the kid's excitement.

"Yea, when they first entered Tronjheim. We were there to greet them when they entered. I think lady Helena waved at me!"

Murtagh remembered that moment when he was forcibly escorted towards the leader of the Varden all too well. He had made an effort to hide his face and be as inconspicuous as possible, made easier due to the attention magnets that were the dragons. "I am sure she noticed you," he lied. Judging by the fond exasperated looks he received from both her elder sister and mother, they knew he was just humouring the girl.

"When I grow up, I am going to an amazing spellcaster, just like her!"

He opened his mouth to humour her again, but he closed it immediately. That was one lie that might actually be harmful. "It is an inborn talent. You have the capacity for magic or you don't. I don't, for example, just like most people." And he had tried. When Eragon had shared some words of power he had tried to use them several times. Being able to use magic was such an unfair advantage, he'd be insane not to want it. The only downside was that everyone, no matter what side you were on, considered you too valuable to be allowed to walk free. The Varden were a little more lax, but even they wouldn't just let their mages go. As Nasuada had said, the Varden would have used force if Du Vrangr Gata had tried to walk away.

"How do I know if I have it?" she asked.

Murtagh considered the request carefully. He could teach the small girl some words of power, but what if she succeeded? A child wouldn't have a lot of energy and she may just kill herself with her first spell. On the other hand. . . having any sort of magic available would be handy. He knew that if he were in her shoes, he wouldn't appreciate someone withholding an opportunity like this.

He looked around himself as they walked, and searched for something as light as possible. Most of the leaves from last season were decomposed beyond recognition, so he pulled a newly sprouted leaf from a passing branch.

"Atra thornessa lauf flautja," Muragth said, putting emphasize on every word. The sudden spike in interest from everyone except Hazel was obvious. "It means: 'let this leaf float' in the words of power. Like I said, I can't use it, but if you want to try–" The leaf was all but snatched from his hand, and soon both Jasmine and Garnet had plucked a leaf for themselves. Little Hazel wanted to join in too, but that was where Murtagh drew the line. The journey was hard enough on her as it was, even without wasting breath on repeating the mantra that now accompanied their march.

After another two hours of walking, when they stopped to set up camp for the night, none of them had any success with their leaves. Only Rose looked truly disappointed by this and was still fervently dropping her leaf in the air and trying to halt its dissent.

Eventually, Murtagh couldn't take it anymore and snatched the leaf out of the air in from of the girls face. "Enough Rose. You can try again later, but the chance is very small. If you don't have the talent, you won't be able to do it, no matter how hard you try." The girl, thankfully, didn't look like she was about to cry, but she did hang her head despondently.

Murtagh held in a sigh, decided to leave the smallest two children to the mother, and moved closer to the fire that he made, right next to Jasmine.

"I wonder, were Eragon and Helena capable of wielding magic before they became Riders?" Jasmine asked.

"I don't think Eragon was a magician before, but Helena already knew some magic." He knew this for a certainty, but she didn't need to know that.

"Then why was Eragon chosen by Saphira? What made him more special than every other young man in the Varden?"

 _What made him more special than my brothers,_ went unspoken. "I don't know."

"Or was just pure dumb luck? Perhaps he wasn't chosen because he was special, but he is special because he is chosen."

"Oh, I don't know," Murtagh said dubiously, feeling an inexplicable need to defend Eragon. "I always thought that there was something special about him."

"Like what?"

"He felt. . . clean." He didn't dare be more specific than that. Besides, he hardly understood himself what he was saying. Eragon did have a temper, his faults, and vices, yet he felt calmer than Helena did. But that didn't feel completely right either, since he could be as stubborn as Helena at times, and Helena seemed _more_ open minded at times. And darn it! He couldn't explain it, even to himself.

"Saphira chose him because he bathed regularly?" Came the sarcastic reply.

"All I know is that Eragon is, by all accounts, a decent young man. I am not saying Saphira was right not picking you, or your brother, or father. All I am saying is that Saphira didn't choose poorly." He shrugged his shoulder. "That's all I can give you."

"I'm sorry," she spoke trough thin lips. "It's just frustrating. Not a Rider, and not even magician in our family to protect us."

"It's alright, the forces of destiny are frustrating at times. Blood, birth and circumstance determine whether one has the power to change the world– or even be accepted by it, far more than our actions. My circumstances didn't allow me to live free in the world, so I tried to leave that world behind. We may not have the power to chance the world, but with some luck, we may build a safe life for ourselves somewhere else."

She turned from looking at the first and smiled at him. Again, Murtagh noticed the obvious attractions she had for him. She was pretty enough, in a common sort of way. She was no Nasuada, or even Helena, but those ships had sailed.

He softly touched her fingers with his own. "I will get us out of here, I promise."

Jasmine's expression melted further. Yep, he would probably try to make some real advances on her soon. He wondered if she had any prior experience. Murtagh had had a few quick flings back in Uru'baen, so he could probably teach her a thing or two.

"Sloan!" It took a dangerously long time before Murtagh realized they were talking about me. _Will have to get used to that,_ he thought angrily to himself. _Might be best if I just consider that my new name, even in my own thoughts._

He turned and found Garnet looking up into the trees. "Do you think it is a good idea to sleep in the trees to avoid the animals?"

"I'd advise against it. Bears can climb better than we ever will." Again, he wished he could be surer about this. "Not to mention that with a little turning in your sleep, you will end up with your neck broken." He was sure about one thing do. "Animals respect and fear fire. It's important that we keep the campfire lit the entire night, and someone should always be on watch."

"Do we have enough dry wood to keep it going?" Jasmine asked.

"Don't worry, so long as the fire remains hot enough, you can use whatever." That would, however, produce a larger amount of smoke. "Anyway, we will work in tree shifts. I will take the middle one." That he would take the toughest watch didn't merit discussion.

"I will take the first watch. I don't feel particularly tired yet," Jasmine said.

"Do you know how to tell time by the stars at night?" He asked.

"I do."

 _"Then wake me up at_ _two o'clock. I will stay awake from two till four, and your mother will watch from four till dawn."_

And so it was agreed. They created a very meagre dinner from some of their remaining provisions and some low hanging fruits and berries that had been collecting during the day and they all hoped weren't poisonous.

"What if I do see something," Jasmine asked, eying the surrounding foliage with trepidation.

"Knock an arrow and scream for help," Murtagh said, but hoped Jasmine wasn't be paranoid enough to give a false alarm. He'd get few enough sleep as it was.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Murtagh was dreaming about their party being found by Varden scouts due to the smoke of the fire, and his new companions all learning who he really was when he was shaken awake.

"Sloan!" Jasmine's voice came in a loud whisper.

With an effort of will, Murtagh managed to force his eyes open and sit up straight. As expected, it was cold outside and any light came from the fire, the stars, or the waning moon. The smell of the campfire permeated the air by now, which he didn't consider a bad thing. The forest was way louder than it had any right to be at this ungodly hour, filled with the constant cricking of crickets, the occasional owl, and he even heard a frog croaking somewhere nearby. Jasmine was squatting next to him, looking as tired as he felt.

"A quiet night?" he asked, still trying to blink the sleep away.

"I heard some wolves howl somewhere close-by, and I think I saw something moving in the shadows once, but I didn't want to wake you until I was certain."

A part of him thought she should have woken him if she thought something was moving, but an even larger part was gratefully for the extra hours of uninterrupted sleep.

"So nothing then?" he asked.

"I didn't say that," and Murtagh could detect a hint of excitement. "I threw a rock at the shadow and I think it went away."

"That's good." As far as he knew, predators only rarely pursued prey that showed it could fight back; not unless they were desperate. "I'll take it from here."

"Okay. Wake me if you think you need help."

Murtagh resisted the urge to snort. "Sure."

"Alright then. Goodnight," and with that she moved to roll out her own bedroll once Murtagh vacated his spot. He had collecting some soft foliage and sand to make the ground a little softer, and he had no problem Jasmine profiting from his efforts. No reason not to.

Murtagh sat down next to the fire, looking around at the darkness and wondered how he was going to stay alert for the next two hours. He decided to scoot over so close to the fire that it started to get uncomfortable, but that was the point. Anything to stop him from dosing off. The occasional shifting of the wind meant that he had change positions often unless he wanted a face-full of a smoke.

Soon he noticed that the fire started to struggle due to the lack of fuel. He quickly noticed that Jasmine had already picked the immediate surroundings clean. Thankful for the excuse to stand up and _do_ something, he scoured the edge of the camp for anything he could use as a torch. When he didn't find anything, he broke a branch from a tree instead. He knew green wood wasn't ideal, but it was better than nothing. After moving as low as he could, and lighting the branch in the core of the fire, he used that to move slightly further from the camp, though he didn't went so far as to risk ever getting lost.

He collected whatever leaves and twigs he could find, and appreciated the menial task to keep him busy.

He continued to wander the edge, following the movements of the stars to tell him how long he still had to go. His bow was slung over his back, and a knife secured to his belt. Occasionally he sat down by the fire and peered out at the darkness and listened. If he strained his ears he could hear a wolf's howl in the distance, but that was fine so long as they stayed there. Of more concern were what he couldn't know or foresee. Murtagh knew that darkness itself wasn't dangerous, nor does it suddenly conjure evil spirits. Nonetheless, he felt like the night was pressing in on him, telling him that none of his kind should be awake at this time. A part of him felt the irrational urge to run into the darkness to challenge the night's presumption, the more sensible part of him just wanted time to pass so he could crawl into his bedroll again.

He occasionally shot a glance towards the other three bedrolls. At his suggestion they slept as far away from any tree as was possible in a forest like this. This was actually something Murtagh had learned from Eragon, who had slightly more experience sleeping in the wild. The younger man had told him that the first time he tried to sleep under a tree at night, he ended up covered in bird droppings and several insects. It was yet another piece of wisdom that the Burner family now thanked him for.

He honestly didn't know what he wanted from them. He had promised to take them out of the mountains, and he would, but where specifically would he take them? His goal of starting a life far away from the conflicts of this world hadn't changed, and he admitted he would appreciate some company. But his companions wanted, reasonably, to return to civilization. Would he guide them back there, or just settle for keeping them safe and with him? He knew what Helena, Eragon, or even Tornac would say to this. Murtagh had no right to keep them if they didn't want to stay, but he wasn't forcing them was he? He was simply not helping them leave. They were already grateful for keeping them alive, so was doing more really required?

Murtagh had always considered himself a good man

 _Bah! It's not like I will be able to find my way back anyway._ These thoughts, along with the world he dreamed to build for himself far away, continued to haunt him throughout his watch and agitated wanderings.

Eventually, the North Star and the Big Dipper constellations signalled his time was up.

He stood, walked towards the mother's bedroll, and squatted next to it. He removed the small flap that covered their faces, and froze momentarily. He knew that Garnet had agreed to sleep with her youngest daughter, but sight of mother and child clinging to each other in their sleep still took him by surprise and made his throat clench painfully. He briefly considered leaving them in peace and take the last watch as well, but thought better of it. It was important that he stayed at least somewhat rested.

He put his hand on the older woman's shoulders and started to shake her lightly. After a few moments, she stirred, looked at him, and proceeded to free herself from the sleeping child's grip. Something she was unfortunately unable to do without waking up said child.

Bleary eyes opened and stared in confusion at the two adults. Her mouth hung open and her head swayed slightly. "Everything is fine. Go back to sleep sweetie," the mother soothed and little Hazel immediately collapsed back to sleep.

Murtagh couldn't help but feel a brief spark of envy for the small child in how unconcerned and free of responsibility she was. She was in as much danger as the rest of them, but whether they lived or died wouldn't depend on her.

"Do you want us to let you wake naturally?" Garnet whispered to him.

"Perhaps wake me two hours after dawn?" he suggested. It was important that they kept moving, but had to think long-term and make sure they all stayed rested and healthy.

"Two hours after dawn," she confirmed.

"I collected enough twigs to keep the fire going for a while, but I am not sure there is enough to last the night. Just break some branches if you really can't find anything better." She nodded and Murtagh retired to his own bedroll, nodding off almost immediately.

xxxxxxx

Murtagh was woken by a heavy uncomfortable pressure on his chest. From the side he heard a strange grating sound. He looked up at a still dark predawn sky, and the silhouette of Garnet standing over him. It took a while for his vision to clear enough to see the fear on her face. He followed her gaze and found what he had feared encountering ever since he saw the giant footprint, a huge bear. It stood higher than he was tall, and that was while it was walking on all fours. It was still smaller than a few months old dragon, but even they would have approached this beast with some caution.

It was still over forty yards away from his position, but was moving towards them with strange erratic jerking motions, occasionally bumping into trees. Murtagh got the impression that the beast seemed unhinged, which was not reassuring.

The pressure from his chest disappeared and Murtagh realized that the older woman had woken him with her foot. He quickly extricated himself from his bedroll, and armed himself with his bow and quiver. He looked and noticed that the beast's furry skin was torn in several places, like it had been fighting recently.

As, Garnet was hurriedly waking up her daughters, Murtagh made sure not to make any sudden moves, and kept a tense eye on the bear, hoping it would see sense and that they were neither a threat nor easy prey. So far it seemed to be stumbling without any rhyme or reason in their general direction, but not towards their camp specifically.

And then, whether it was from Hazel or Rose, a loud high-pitched yelp started both Murtagh and the bear. Another grinding growl and the large animal started to run towards them.

"Barzul!" Murtagh cursed and managed to get one arrow out before it reached them. The arrow stuck in its skin, but it didn't seem to do anything more than direct its attention straight toward him. Probably a good thing since if it _wasn't_ going for him it would go for one of the others, but he had neither the time nor inclination to see a silver lining as around two thousands pound of mammal slammed into him, sending him flying to the ground. The world became a blur. Any notion of fighting instantly disappeared as the instinctual urge to crawl up, make himself small, and protect his head overwhelmed anything else he might have wanted to do.

 _Bears aren't natural predators; let it prove its dominance and leave,'_ he thought desperately as claws raked across his shoulders and arms. Through the haze of violence he heard screaming in the distance.

There was a halt in the attack as the sound of something heavy slamming into something else sounded a few inches from his face. In the brief respite, Murtagh's hand searched the ground for something heavy until he felt a loose rock. Bringing up his arm, he slammed it into the face of the beast twenty inches from his face. The beast led loose a whining sort of growl and backed off enough for Murtagh to scramble to a sitting crouch. When the bear didn't immediately attack, but simply stared from him to Jasmine whom Murtagh realized had thrown a rock and already had another rock prepared, Murtagh slowly moved back to his feet. From the corner of his eye he was that Garnet had taken her two youngest daughters and put her hands over their mouths to keep them silent.

The bear seemed to reevaluate his decision and started running away, and for the first time Murtagh got a good view of the beasts back. What he saw indicated that this encounter may just be a prelude to a much greater problem. Three arrow shafts stuck out from its back, and they had the distinct bony look of Urgal arrows. Murtagh had assumed that the Urgals would flee back home if they were at all intelligent, and nobody knew where that was. But Murtagh didn't know where _they_ were either, so it only figures that they would head in the same direction as the Urgals, because _of course_ they would.

He turned his head and saw that the smoke from their campfire could likely be spotted for miles around. _Shit._ "Douse the fire," he motioned toward the rest of his group and moved to pack his belongings. "We have to keep moving."

"Sloan, your arm!" Jasmine said.

Her words brought attention to his wounds and Murtagh found the torn cloth of his arms had become red. His adrenaline was still keeping the pain at bay, but that wouldn't last. "Put out the fire," he repeated. "I suspect Urgals where hunting that bear. That's probably why it was so jumpy. We need to do as it does and get away from here."

There were no further objections and within fifteen minutes they had packed their stuff and did their best to make it appear as if nobody had used this spot for camping. As Murtagh had expected, the pain of his torn arm soon _demanded_ his attention. There wasn't much they could do about his wounds however. They were so low on water that they were reluctant to use more than a swallows worth to clean the wound. Despite, a source of water being the last thing to seek out if you wanted to avoid crossing paths with other groups, they didn't have a choice. So, following the original plan, they went down towards the lower Valleys. On the evening that first day since the attack, they did indeed find proof that they weren't alone in the form of smoke in the distance, similar to what their campfire must have produced.

They didn't dare make a campfire that night, which necessitated they moved closer together to preserve body heat. If it wasn't for the older woman and two children present, Murtagh might have used the excuse to suggest Jasmine and he share a bedroll, but they _were_ there. Instead all their separate bedrolls were squeezed tightly together. Garnet continued to share her bedroll with her youngest daughter.

They kept the watch rotation from the previous night, and Murtagh was left with only the stinging of arm for company. They still hadn't found a reliable source of water to clean his wounds, so Murtagh improvised by letting a bit of his own drool dribble on the torn flesh. It stung even more by doing so, and Murtagh hoped the old wife's tales about stinging being a sign of healing were true.

When the dawn came, the smoke in the distance caused them to keep up the pace. At least as much as they were able; with two children in tow, they didn't go nearly fast enough for Murtagh's comfort.

At least they were finally able to find a river to refill their supplies, though all the adults agreed it would be best to boil the water before doing anything with it.

"But that would take time," Garnet fretted, echoing Murtagh's own worries.

"Now that we have found a reasonably safe space," and he admitted to himself this was a very low standard for reasonable, "we should focus primarily on not encountering any Urgals. I think we should move up the mountain from here. It will still be good enough for a small group like ours to hide, but the Urgals are unlikely to reside here. It's too visible for such a large group to hide. The dwarves would have found and eliminated any stronghold they could find so close to their great city. No. I think the Urgals are just passing through here, and we should let them, and only continue once the coast is clear."

"You would have us move up and down the mountain every single day?" Garnet questioned, shooting a worried look at her two youngest. Hazel had allowed herself to fall to the ground in exhaustion when they halted, and Rose too was taking very deep breaths. And they had only been traveling for half a day. Murtagh had noticed that every day their energy seemed to dim and that their reserves were growing smaller and smaller.

"I understand your concern," he said. "You and the small ones can stay hidden. Me and Jasmine should be enough to sustain us for a short time." The oldest daughter wasn't showing any serious strain yet. In fact, considering his own wounds, she was probably the most fit of all of them. Fit enough to scour their surroundings for any edible looking plants once they arrived at the nameless river.

"Thank you. I know that we are burden that you didn't need to accept."

"Don't worry about," he tried to hide his smile. "Maybe if I'd been alone, that bear would have mauled me even worse." Though they all now knew it had been Rose's yell that spooked the bear in the first place. "More importantly, things are less boring with you around." Though taking them had been a risk, it had increased the possible payoff for his future as well. Living as hermit for the rest of his life became less appealing once the very real possibility of it stared him in the face. "Let's stay here for an hour or two, perhaps see if this river houses any fish, refill and boil some water, and then we need to–"

A scream of fear echoed from the trees. The same direction they knew Jasmine had gone foraging.

Cursing, Murtagh took off at a run and drew his knife from his belt. Jasmine's cry of "Urgals!" confirmed his fears. He continued to make a beeline towards the sound, jumping through a bush, and disappearing into the tree line. After a two meter jump down a small depression, he froze and immediately cursed himself for doing so.

There she was, being held captive by an average sized Urgal with a knife to her throat. Four more Urgals were present and they spread out to surround him.

"Stop, or she dies," came the expected threat, though it was a surprise that the creature could speak a word of the civilized tongue, though its accent betrayed its barbaric origin.

Again Murtagh cursed his indecision when he froze. This was the classic hostage situation and Murtagh had wondered on occasion how he would respond to it. He had, at the time of those musings, decided that the best thing to do was to charge and attack before the threat to the hostage could be spoken. Attack and make the enemy hesitated, and hope he will instinctively prioritize protecting himself from your attack over finishing off a hostage that clearly wasn't doing her job.

Just goes the show that the reality of it was far harder than the fantasies in his head. It was too late now.

"Stop, or she dies," the creature repeated.

"I drop my weapon, you kill me and you kill her. So no, I will not disarm." He drew his sword from his belt to add to the knife he held in his other hand. He was relieved to find no accusation in Jasmine's eyes at refusing to comply.

By the nasty grins on the faces of the Urgals, it looks as if they had been hoping for that answer. The four Urgals around him all had shields, two had axes, one a sword, and the last one a polearm. They approached him cautiously, their shields closing in on him. There was no hope of him overwhelming one before the others could respond. To his back was the small platform from which he had jumped.

It was hopeless. To make matters worse, he heard Garnet telling her remaining children to run from even more Urgals.

Murtagh charged, not at any of the ones moving in on him, but at the Urgal holding Jasmine. With a lot of luck, he might be able to free her and run before her throat was slit. While her captor did seem stunned at being the target of his attack, the others weren't, and one of them tackled him to the ground. They grappled and struggled for control of knife for a few short seconds before the weapon was torn from his grasp by the other creatures joining in the scuffle.

He managed to slam his elbow on the nose of the one who tackled him, but soon one of the others kneed him the stomach, knocking the breath out of him. Everything went downhill from there and soon his world was nothing but pain with the Urgals competing with each other in who could hurt him the most. He saw Jasmines screaming something, but the sound came as if from miles away. One last hit to the head and blackness overtook him.

xxxxxxx

Blackness was also what met him when he returned to conscience, along with a great deal of pain that lingered from his beating. From the soft texture on his cheeks, he figured out his head was covered in a bag. It didn't seem to hinder his breathing thankfully. He soon noticed that he was moving, like he was being transported in a cart of some kind. He could hear Urgal voices all around him talking in their savage tongue, as well as the stomping of hooves.

 _Why am I alive?_ He wondered. Urgals didn't take prisoners, at least as far as he was aware. It was possible that they took captured humans as slaves, but he had never heard of such a thing.

Rather than trying to undue his bindings, he did his best to hide his return to awareness, sure that they would force him to walk on his own powers if they knew. They prodded him every few minutes, but he gave no reaction. That couldn't last however and the game ended when he received a particularly hard prod at one of the bruises on his back and he led out an involuntary grunt. As he had feared would happen, he was immediately grabbed and pulled off whatever vehicle he was one. Even though he couldn't understand a word of what the Urgals were saying, from the sudden energy and tone of their voices he guessed he was being mocked. Someone grabbed his arms and started to a tie a robe to it. Murtagh didn't resist. He could hear he was surround from all sides and he'd never get the blinding bag off his head in time. The robe was tied to the vehicle and he was forced to walk along or fall.

"Sloan?" he heard Jasmine's voice not far in from it him.

"It's me."

"I am glad you're alright."

That statement was so ludicrous that he couldn't help but chuckle at it. "I doubt that will last for very long."

"They haven't killed us yet."

Murtagh opened his mouth to say that would change once they realized they knew nothing, but thought better of it. There was no way to tell how much of their words the Urgals around them understood.

"Whatever use these Urgals have for us won't last. Let's just hope that, and I can't believe I am saying this, these Urgals use slave labour. That seems to be our best hope of survival right now." He sighed at that gloomy prospect. "Where are your mother and sisters?"

"They're alive and captured as well. I think they are still behind us. I was blindfolded not long after you– after they hurt you. I have heard my family's voices, from afar, a few carts behind us. But the Urgals got annoyed by us yelling a conversation back and forth." A pause. "Please be honest with me Sloan. Do we have a chance."

"Your still alive," was all he had to say to that. "These blindfolds are actually a good sign. There would be no reason to blind us if they were just going to kill us."

"So what should we do?"

"For now, just cooperate, pray, and follow my lead." He regretted that last part as soon as he said it. Why was he still taking a responsibility for this lost cause? He had failed and following his lead hadn't achieved anything.

"Okay." Yet Jasmine at least seemed to continue to trust him without question. More fool her.

Being forced to walk blindfolded was a constant struggle for balance. The mountainous and rough terrain made any smooth patch of ground an exception. Thankfully the Urgals had to make sure the cart they were tied to didn't get stuck anywhere, so it wasn't as bad as it could have been. He was also glad that the Urgals apparently had pack mules to pull it, otherwise he had no doubt he and Jasmine would be forced to do it. If it wasn't for his numerous bruises, he would have called their journey easy. Or at least not much harder than when they were alone.

When they were allowed to briefly take off the bag over their heads to eat something, Murtagh noticed he was in the middle of what would be considered a single large company if they were human, with just under a hundred Urgals. The cart in front of them, to his surprise, wasn't pulled by a horse but a weird goat like creature.

It wasn't until they finally halted for the day that Murtagh heard from the other three of their group. However exhausted he was, however his various pains were exacerbated by the trial of walking blind, when he saw how the small children were coping, he wished he was still walking alone with Jasmine.

"Oh! I can't wait to introduce you to dad! He is very strong, like you, and he even carries me on his shoulder; Hazel too. He too can shoot a bow and maybe you can teach him magic and–" Murtagh tried his best to ignore the girl. The worst of it was that he could imagine Rose actually smiling as she blathered on. It was clear that Garnet had broken, and had told her two youngest that they would soon re-join the rest of the family. She now supported the small girl's narrative with the occasional 'indeed' or 'yes dear, isn't that wonderful!'.

Hearing how they had accepted their doom, and were now actively trying to convince themselves that death wasn't so bad was the most disturbing thing Murtagh had ever experienced. Hazel, at least, was quiet due to having fallen asleep soon after they were reunited.

Murtagh again tried to think of some way to get them out of this mess. His thinking went along two routes: escape by breaking their bonds and find some way to hide from pursuit or escape by convincing the Urgals to let them go. He had tried to ask his captors for what reason they were captured, but had only been met with silence and mutterings in the Urgals' nonsensical language. Information was the most likely reason. Murtagh didn't think there was any information he would be unwilling to share, up to and including anything he knew about Eragon and Helena, if he believed it would allow him and his charges to go free.

The problem was that even if the Urgals agreed to such a thing, Urgals lacked any sense of honor or morality, so it was unlikely they would keep their word even if they gave it.

He and Jasmine both decided, over her mother's objections, to sleep a little ways off from the rest of them. It was clear that the eldest daughter was just as disturbed by her family's fatalism as he was. Since they had their sleeping packs and other supplies confiscated, they instead tried to keep warm by embracing and wrapping the two thin blankets they had been given around themselves. Murtagh had finally, and quiet literally, gotten the girl in bed with him, but any thoughts of doing more than sleeping was buried under a mountain of worries and responsibility. It was nice though, knowing there was still one person with him who was sane and supported him.

At dawn they were woken up and frogmarched back towards their cart. Murtagh had entertained the idea of waking up before the Urgals and making a break for it, but it was unlikely that nobody was on watch, and with his blinds still on, there was no way to make sure. Speaking of the blinding bag on his head, it was becoming uncomfortably moist due to the breath that had to go through the fabric. It was just one more thing to add to his list of miseries.

He would spend two more days marching in captivity before he got any inkling what the Urgals wanted from him. Without words of warning, as usual, he felt rough hands pulling at the cord that bound the sack over his head. To his dismay he found that the Urgals had tripled.

 _They are regrouping._

One of his captors motioned for him to follow. After making yet another promise to Jasmine he knew was meaningless that he would be back soon, he did as he was bid. He ignored all the jeering and hostile glances sent his way by what seemed like every Urgal they encountered and tried to take in as much of his surroundings as he could. He didn't recognize the mountain that now loomed over him, but surely they couldn't have gotten that far in only a few days. He noticed and soon smelled the distinct salty smell of meat being preserved coming from one of the carts, and couldn't help but think it might be the bear that had mauled him. _At least we are still better off them some,_ he thought darkly.

He walked through half the camp, though calling this disorganised mess a camp was generous, and arrived at a congregation of Kull. At last he stood before a truly monstrous specimen of eight and a half feet with horns that spiralled all the way around his head. He was one of the few Kull that wore any sort of armor, with seemingly random pieces of metal strapped to its most vital areas, including its head.

It grinned and bared its yellow fangs at him. "Human," it said by way of greeting.

"Urgal," he acknowledged.

"What is your name?"

Murtagh didn't answer.

"I hope you have enjoyed our hospitality." Its voice had a great rumbling quality to it, and a definite tone of amusement.

Murtagh didn't answer.

"No doubt you are wondering why you are still alive."

Again, Murtagh remained silent.

"How roughly have you been treated, human."

More mulish silence.

"You have already proven that you can speak."

"What's there to say? Fine, I do wonder why you took us captive."

"At first, information." That was expected. "But now that more of the rams have had a chance to talk, you are now insurance, or perhaps a token is more accurate." Murtagh was starting to get surprised at the amount of civilized words that the Kull knew. His accent was still atrocious though, and could make even the dwarf tongue sound musical by comparison.

"A token?" That could mean anything.

"Our path is no longer as clear as it once was." Murtagh thought he could detect a hint of worry in the Kull's voice. "But the decision is not mine to make. The Herndall will decide your fate, as well as of those who follow you."

"Then why am I talking to you and not them."

The Kull made a weird rough bleating sound that reinforced the Urgals resemblance to a goat. Murtagh thought it sounded oddly like a laugh.

"Your rations will increase, your young will be allowed to ride the carts – they would likely collapse from exhaustion anyway – and have my assurance you won't be harmed, for now."

 _They want my cooperation, not just obedience. At least they suspect they might need my good will._

"Thank you."

"Your fair treatment from now on is a privilege that can and will be revoked at the first sign of trouble," The Kull warned. "Now, what is your name?"

For some weird reason, Murtagh felt more compelled to give his name to this creature than to Jasmine. "Sloan," he answered anyway.

"Any important family relation to add to your honor or shame?"

"No," he lied.

The Kull grunted. "Do you wish to know my name?"

Even after just a few days of life being out of his control, being _given_ any sort of choice was jarring. "Sure."

"Nar Garzhvog of the Bolvek tribe. And until we meet the Herndall, I am the one that gets to decide whether you live or die, so behave." The Kull gestured and he was led back to the others. As he walked a new feeling of optimism grew within him. _Our path is no longer as clear as it once was._ He kept thinking back to that and now wished he had pressed for more information, as unlikely as it was to have gotten an answer. Still an uncertain future was still better than almost certain death or slave labor.

When he returned, he shared everything with Jasmine who was now also unbound.

"A different path?" she questioned. "What are they planning? Are they planning to abandon Galbatorix? I guess that's possible after their defeat, but why would that lead to them to not killing us."

"I am not sure," he admitted. "If they abandoned Galbatorix, they would just retreat back into wilderness, but they don't need us for that."

Jasmine's eyes widened. "Do you think they might be considering siding with the Varden?"

Murtagh opened his mouth to say how ridiculous that was, but stopped himself. So far, that was the only theory he had heard or come up with that explained why they might want him alive and not resentful.

"What would they hope to gain by that? The Varden are in no position to offer much of anything."

"But they are desperate for more forces, aren't they? The Varden have less, but might be willing to give a lot more of what they have, or might gain the future."

"A share in the spoils," Murtagh concluded, and it no longer sounded as farfetched. "But surely the Varden would never agree to such a thing. . ." Not with Nasuada in charge. The Urgals had killed her father. Surely they wouldn't.

But if the Varden did agree to give away conquered land – land that was now inhabited by humans – to monsters, that would finally put the nail in the coffin of them being morally superior to their enemies. He couldn't help but wonder how Eragon and Helena would react to such a thing. Eragon would oppose it, without a doubt, but Helena. . . she had spoken up in defense of Urgals before. It had baffled Murtagh at the time, but he was coming up with his own personal theory for that woman. Helena felt compelled to defend anyone whom she saw as a victim or loser of some sort, never mind how much they deserve compassion. The Urgals had just lost a major battle, so Helena felt compelled to protect them. The Varden were the likely losers of this war, so Helena felt the need to side with them.

And he had been blamed for his father's actions, so she had felt the need to defend him, regardless of whether she approved of his own personality or not.

It was possible, that Helena might get so caught up in seeing the empire as an enemy, that she would be willing to screw over everyone who lived there to appease the poor Urgals just looking for a home. Or, just as crazy, think Urgals could integrate peacefully in human lands.

Murtagh thought he might be being unfair to Helena now, but the fact that he couldn't definitely say she _wouldn't_ do that said enough.

It wasn't long until the rest of the Burner family joined them. Murtagh left explaining the new situation to Jasmine. The children were confused, but bounced back from their fatalism within a day. The mother, Murtagh wasn't sure about. The events of the last few days, as well as what came before was starting to get a bit much for her. If it wasn't for her younger children still looking to her for guidance, Murtagh thought it was likely she would have given up by now.

In any event, he was now very glad he hadn't given his real name to the Kull. He didn't' know how much this Garzhvog knew about the goings on in both the empire and the Varden, but both sides would love to get their hands on him. He honestly couldn't decide between those two options if he was forced to choose; he had burned too many bridges everywhere.

Despite no longer being bound, the Urgals kept such a close watch on them that didn't really matter as far as escape prospects went. They also didn't get their supplies or weapons back. Anything reasonable that the humans asked for they received for however long they needed it with the exception of weapons and privacy. That last was probably smart of them. An Urgal – most of them looked the same to him – had once tried to give him a weapon, but he was beaten up by his fellows for the attempt. Both Murtagh and Jasmine actually felt a little sorry for him, until somebody explained that the only reason he wanted to present him a weapon was so he could then give Murtagh a warrior's death. Their sympathy evaporated quickly at that. None of the humans asked for much outside of some decent blankets and some herbal remedies for Murtagh's wounds, but that they were allowed to ask was reassuring.

Regardless of Garzhvog's assurances, Murtagh would still have tried to escape, given a halfway realistic chance of success. As it was, he had no choice but to go along with whatever this Herndall had planned for him.

Over the next few days, Murtagh was able to observe the Urgals closer than probably any human in living memory. Their reputation for brutality was well earned. This was supposed to be an army but any strict discipline was hard to find. Fights broke out regularly over food, trinkets, insults, disagreeable orders, or even nothing at all. Garzhvog himself was called upon to fight to keep his fellows in line more than once, and Murtagh was glad that this creature was extending his protection to him and the Burners for some reason. By the hostile glances everywhere, it was clearly not a popular opinion.

Yet few of those fights seemed to result in any lasting harm. Urgals had to have some form of supernatural healing factor. That was the only explanation for how these creatures didn't just kill or permanently maim each other. Dislodged joints didn't even seem to merit any consideration at all; just pop them back into place and business as usual. It was surprising how quickly being a prisoner of war could start to feel normal. He knew their position wasn't good, but in the short term, they might actually be safer now than when they were wandering the mountain valleys on their own.

A small number of Urgals even seemed to warm up to him. Out of sheer boredom, a desire to learn as much about his captors as he could, and a wish to show off in front of Jasmine, he joined some of the Urgals in their pastimes. This usually took the form of some contest of strength or skill. He was confident he could best every single Urgal with a sword in hand, but he didn't get one. Honestly, he wasn't sure if these Urgals even had a decent blade; it was probably too fine a weapon for such a simple people to make. As it was, he was left with unarmed combat and other strength based games – which he almost always lost – and games of reflexes – which he almost always won. It didn't happen often, and either Garzhvog or some of his supporters were always present to make sure somebody didn't kill him by accident, or not by accident. All of this didn't endear the Urgals to him, but he hoped it might make the Urgals respect him more.

After almost a week of travel, the humans were called before Garzhvog.

"The Herndall are not far from here," he rumbled. "You will all go to meet them."

"Does this mean the Urgals live here?" Rose asked curiously. Long term of exposure to the Urgals when they weren't trying to kill or harm them seemed to have robbed both her and her sisters of most of their fear. Considering that some fear for those who were probably still considering whether to kill you or not was only sensible, Murtagh wasn't sure that was a good thing.

"No, small human female, we don't want you to know where that is. If we were going there, you would have remained blindfolded. I only allowed you to remove them when I learned the Herndall would come to us. Normally I would object for them to travel such a long distance, but time is of the essence."

Murtagh had asked what the Herndall was before, but received no answer beyond that they seemed to be in charge. He had previously assumed they were a collection of the most powerful warlords, but this hint of frailty implied something else.

Only Garzhvog and other Kull accompanied them through the wild mountainous terrain until they reached a medium sized tent made from a simple wooden frame covered by animal hides. Murtagh felt a large hand squeeze his shoulder, hard, in a clear warning gesture. He turned his head and gave the hand's owner a nonplussed look, but tried not to seem too confrontational. They were all obviously protective of whomever they were going to meet.

The hand on his shoulder didn't disappear, and roughly half the Kull entered the tent while the rest stayed behind to keep an eye on all the humans.

He looked around and found his fellow humans to look as nervous as he felt, though he hoped he did a better job of hiding it. His eyes fell on Rose and Hazel in particular who had tried to make themselves comfortable on the ground. _Why are they even here?_ Was it just so that Murtagh wouldn't want a fight to break out?

After what he guessed was half an hour, the Urgals' private meeting ended and they were directed inside. When the Kull in front of him opened the tent flap, he found the other Kull squeezed to the walls, the tent barely large enough to accommodate them. At the center, given a respectful open space even in this crammed test, stood three wrinkled small Urgals and it took several blinks before he realized they were women, very old women. Two had very small yellow horns, and one didn't have horns at all, merely two ivory spots on her head. One of them was both toothless and blind, judging by the glassy white of her eyes. All were covered in various talismans and carried staffs.

As he made eye contact with the one that was neither hornless nor toothless, he felt the familiar feeling of a foreign mind trying to enter his. Murtagh eyes widened and he tensed his mind like a body about to be tackled. He had never received any formal training when it came to defending his mind, and whatever he knew came through trial and error from all the magicians in the capitol. They didn't target him specifically, but tried to read the thoughts of any hallfway-important person for any advantage. It had been the desire to keep his relation to Morzan a secret that was the original motivation behind securing his own thoughts, not that it worked.

All minds felt different from each other, but it was clear that this one wasn't human. It felt. . . hairy, definitely more animalistic than any other species he had encountered. Saphira and Godric had felt just as primal, but there was too much ethereal glory to their minds to call them animalistic. In any case, she was nowhere near as strong as the Twins were and he had no trouble throwing her out of his head.

A grimace appeared on the old crone's face and Murtagh was all too aware that she likely had the authority to order him beaten, starved, and sleep deprived to destroy his mental defenses. She didn't comment on her ejection, however, and looked at Garnet next who immediately clutched her head and groaned like she had an enormous headache.

"What are you doing?!" Jasmine screamed. One of the large Kull stepped closer and grabbed her arm to make sure she didn't do anything stupid.

"She will be fine girl," The blind and toothless said and Murtagh could hear the age of this creature in how her voice rasped. "But we must be certain of your intentions."

Murtagh held his tongue at hearing that age old excuse. What intentions? Their only intention was to regain their freedom. The inspection of the matron of the burner family continued over all her children's objections. Once the Urgal magician had finished with her, and Garnet fell to the floor, she continue on with Jasmine, and even Rose and Hazel after that. All the while, Murtagh could do nothing but grid his teeth. Thankfully, the old crone seemed to go a little easier on the two smallest of their group.

The magician turned her gaze back on him. "Now – Sloan is it? – how would a low ranking deserting warrior, such as you claim to be, be able to defend your mind."

"A properly motivated man can accomplish much," he said evenly.

The magician watched him for a long time. "Who was your sire, human? You look familiar."

 _How!_ He screamed internally.

He opened his mouth and tried to think of another fake person or story, but it took him a precarious second to think of a name. "Tornac."

"Is he worth knowing?"

"No."

The old magician narrowed her eyes in suspicion and walked over to him. Murtagh stood rigid as the old Urgal woman circled around him, inspecting him. She even grabbed his chin to inspect his features. Afterwards, she returned to her fellow crones and whispered in their ears. Then she waved Garzhvog over and they whispered in his ear. Then he called over yet another Urgal and whispered with him for a while. Murtagh thought he might have been able to make out the words if they didn't speak in their own crude language.

"Remove the clothes from your back," Garzhvog commanded.

Murtagh's shoulders slumped. Not seeing any other option, he did as commanded.

"Lord Blood-Blade," The hornless crone grinned at him. "Why would you lie about being descended from a great warrior like Blood-Blade, whom your people know as Morzan."

"What?!" Jasmine exclaimed to his right. Murtagh found her looking at him shocked horror; Garnet as well. The two children were merely confused.

"What is your name?" Blind and toothless asked.

"My name is Murtagh," he said defeatedly.

"You fought against us in _Farthen Dûr?"_

"So I did."

"You fight for the Varden? Or were you fighting for yourself? Or do you just enjoy the thrill of bloodshed like your father did?"

"Maybe I just wanted to fight against you," he said, and he was surprised that some of the Urgals actually laughed at that.

"So it's the latter, then? Fight any of those worth fighting," hornless grinned at him.

"Enough," the magician raised a hand impatiently. "Do you hate Galbatorix or the empire?" she asked

"Not as much as people want me to," he admitted.

"Are you some sort of spy?" Jasmine asked, still looking at him as she was seeing him for the first time. It was a look he was painfully familiar with.

"No," he said listlessly, not expecting her to believe him. "I just want to live in peace."

"Galbatorix has a great fondness for you," Garzhvog said. "Our warriors were commanded to return you safely to _Urû_ _'_ baen if you were to be captured."

Judging by the tightening features of both Garnet and Jasmine, that didn't help his case.

"I didn't notice a lot of that during the battle," Murtagh glared.

The large Kull snorted. "It was kill or be killed. We could hardly be expected to ask anyone whether they were you before killing them."

"So are you going to return me to Galbatorix?" That might actually be preferable to this current situation. It didn't sound like Galbatorix wanted him dead, and so long as nobody forced him to fight, he could grudgingly accept living in the empire.

"Does that prospect please you, human?" The magician said derisively. "You are not free yet."

"Galbatorix's flame-haired shaman subjugated the minds of our war chiefs in the battle of _Farthen Dûr_ ," Garzhvog grumbled. "We need to know where your king stands and whether he has any honor at all."

"It remains to be seen whether we want to do him the curtesy of returning you to him," blind and toothless said.

"And if you find out that Galbatorix did trick you?" Murtagh asked.

"Then we might return you to the Varden," hornless grinned menacingly. "How do the humans of the Varden treat deserters, I wonder?"

 _So it's come to this_ , he thought bitterly. It looks like their theory about the Urgals wondering which faction would benefit them the most was accurate. The one good thing in all of this was that nobody seemed to know that he was suspected of murdering the Varden's leader. That was really the only thing that could make this situation any worse.

"Are you saying you can bring us home?" Garnet asked and Murtagh felt his spirits sag further. It looked like he would be alone again one way or another after this, or dead.

"We think your humans will be more likely to look favourably on us if we rescue some of their people from the mountains," blind and toothless rasped, and it was the closest to 'kind' Murtagh had ever heard an Urgal speak.

"When do we leave?" Jasmine asked. Murtagh turned his head to look at her but she pointedly refused to meet his gaze.

"Oh you will remain here for some time yet. We first need to send an emissary to Galbatorix."

"You will never hear from your messenger again," Murtagh said, an idea forming in his head.

"We must try."

"Just send me. As you say, our good king likes me for some reason. If the alliance stands, I will return to you with that news. If I don't return, than that is also an answer."

"An interesting proposal," the magician said. "You realize we cannot trust your word without binding oaths?"

"Sure," he agreed immediately, though not enthusiastically. He felt he lacked the energy to be passionate about anything at this point. All he felt was bone crushing apathy.

"So you are on their side after all," Jasmine said, sounding betrayed.

"Sure." Nothing he would say would convince anyone anymore, short of allowing himself to be turned over to the Varden.

The magician's knowledge about the ancient language was limited. All she had to rely on was the mantra of 'oath be true' 'eïnradhin waíse ilumaro', but it served to say it before and after every sentence to make even mundane words binding.

They gave him some supplies, a pointless letter that he promised to deliver, and he was ready to leave at the dawn of the next day.

Jasmine decided to confront him one last time. "Are you really going to be a soldier?"

It was incredible that the hate between the two factions was so great they refused to even use the same term to name their professional warriors. The Varden didn't have soldiers; soldiers were only for the empire. No, they had warriors, free warriors. "Not if I can help it." Which he usually couldn't.

"The empire is going to look for any able bodied man to fight in their war. They aren't going to leave you a choice."

"No one ever does."

"You do have a choice! Everybody should get a second chance." Funny how he got second but not a first chance. "You fought for the Varden before; why not again?"

"I guess I just don't care anymore."

Murtagh would have really loved to consider himself a good man.

* * *

 **AN: So yea, this chapter got dark at times didn't it? Well it was a Murtagh POV chapter, so what were you expecting? I'll be honest, a lot of this is simply me giving an excuse to drag Murtagh back into the story. Sorry dude, but the author isn't letting you run away from the plot.**

 **As for recommendations, I want to give you 'The Golden Stag' by Kerjack. It's a Song of Ice and Fire story with an extra OC being added to the mix. Another child of Cersei's, and it isn't a black-haired trueborn heir or anything, which is the main reason why I found it refreshing.**


	28. Reflection

**_Special thanks for Cereal Reader for looking over this chapter and pointing out my many mistakes. Especially considering how busy he/she is._**

* * *

Saphira and Godric were both almost the size of Hagrid's old hut. The golden dragon that rose above their heads made both of them look tiny and showed what they could grow into. Both younger dragons could fit quiet easily in his torso. Golden light reflected from his scales as he – Godric could tell it was a he – hung in the air in front of them. Each beat of his wings sent buffeting winds at those on the ground, and Helena ears rung from the pressure.

He was glorious, and the Rider sitting atop him was dressed in a robe of purest white that she had to squint her eyes to look at him. It was easy to see why the people of Alagasia could have once worshipped them. Even as she was nervously wondering what their reaction to her might be, she couldn't help but feel simultaneously excited. Even as she knew that there was a good chance that he wouldn't be able to help her, just like Islanzadi said the other elves couldn't, the sight of them seemed to just inspire hope.

Helena did not, however, fall to her knees in reverent worship like Eragon did next to her. She settled for letting her mouth hang open and staring wide-eyed.

The dragon landed a safe distance from them. The shock of the landing forced Helena to spread her legs for balance and made the earth tremble. Helena could hear several rocks tumbling down the cliff face from the tremor. Only now did she notice that the golden dragon was missing a front paw, leaving behind the scar from a terrible injury. The Rider atop him dismounted and slowly descended from the dragon's remaining right paw and strode towards them, his hands clasped before him. His silver hair falling smoothly down his shoulder.

The Rider's outer appearance was as serene and ageless as any other elf Helena had seen, but the man's strange expression that bordered between kind and sad made it unlikely that he could be anything but ancient.

He made a small upwards motion with his hands towards Eragon who immediately jumped back to his feet. Eragon met Helena's eyes and held his fingers together. Getting the hint, they both spoke the traditional elven greeting for meeting someone of higher status. The new Rider returned the greeting as expected.

"Eragon and Saphira, Helena and Godric, I am relieved beyond words that you managed to find your way here safely. I am known as Oromis."

Before any of them could respond, Islanzadi cut in. "You knew?" she accused. "You knew of their existence and did not tell me?"

 _He knew?_ Godric repeated to Helena. _How could he have known?_

She decided to voice the question. As Oromis was just about to open his mouth to answer the queen, Helena feared she may have committed a faux pas.

Oromis didn't seem bothered and smiled. "You have only recently found a way to protect yourself from scrying. Before that, anybody with the right knowledge could follow your journey." His smile dimmed as he looked at the queen. "I had no idea whether they would survive long enough to reach us. I did not wish to give you a fragile hope that could be snatched away at any moment."

Islanzadi didn't seem impressed by that answer. "You still had no right to keep that information from me! I could have sent warriors to protect Arya and the dragons and the riders, and escort them here safely. You betrayed me, Shur'tugal!"

Everyone was backing away from the elven queen, but Oromis allowed the anger to wash over him, not losing his sad little smile. It reminded Helena of how Dumbledore dealt with her tantrums. "I hid nothing. All that I saw, you could and should have seen yourself, had you cared to look. That you lost interest in the dwarves or the Varden is understandable, but Brom? Last of the elf friends? You have been blind and lax on your throne. Do not blame me for what should have been your duty."

Islanzadi's shoulders slumped and her face looked stricken.

"Besides," Oromis continued, turning his gaze back towards the young Riders, and unless Helena was imagining it, on her specifically. "Your escort would have not have left them a choice in whether to come here or not. I think it is very important that they stand here now out of nothing but their own free will."

The warm feeling of the rising sun on her skin disappeared as the golden dragon's neck moved closer to hers and his shadow engulfed her. An entirely new warm glow engulfed her as his hot breath washed off her. A eye that shone like the sun and was twice the size of her stared intently at her. _Well met Helena, Daughter of Lily. I am Gleadr._ The obviously male voice rumbled like a storm speaking words. Instinctively, Helena hoped to never hear that voice sound angry.

Glaedr then turned his attention briefly to Eragon, likely exchanging similar greetings before moving on to his fellow dragons.

Godric stood straight and with his wings slightly spread to show size without being too obvious. Helena knew that he was trying to stand proud without offering a challenge. Respect, but without any hint of submission. Helena had never seen Godric behave this way; usually he didn't care what others thought. Saphira had adopted a similar posture, but Helena couldn't be sure of her feelings.

Glaedr circled and sniffed at both dragons. ' _You both smell of humans, and all you know of your own race is what your instincts have thought you. Nonetheless, I am glad you had each other and you both show the strength and will of true dragons.'_

Godric preened and Helena was feeling a lot more optimistic about all this. Oromis seemed the calm and reasonable sorts, and Godric seemed to have finally found a role models. Perhaps that would calm him down somewhat?

As that was going on, Orik moved closer to Oromis and introduced himself. "Truly, this is beyond anything we could have expected or dared hope for. You are a sight for sore eyes," Orik smiled, but there was something strained in it. "If it is not too much to ask, may I ask a boom on behalf of my king and people."

Oromis nodded. "Ask, and if it is within my power, I will grant it."

"Then answer this one question. Why have you remained hidden for all these years, silver hand? You were sorely needed."

"Ahh," Ormis smiled wanly and with a hint of something self-deprecating. "There are many sorrows in the world and one is not being able to help those in pain. I could not risk leaving my sanctuary, for if I had died to Galbatorix or his minions, then there would be no one to pass on our knowledge to the next generation and we would truly have no hope."

Orik dropped his smile. "Is that your excuse? Those are the actions of a coward. The eggs might have never hatched."

Glaedr growled and his lips curled, showing massive teeth. The other elves all tensed and sent the dwarf hostile glances, but before anybody could say anything, Oromis halted everyone with two hands raised wardingly at both the elves and the dragon behind him. "Peace everyone, I am not offended. It is an apt reaction." He looked from Eragon to Helena and there was something sly in his eyes. "And what do you two think, are my reasons insufficient?"

Both junior Riders exchanged glances. Eragon looked completely wrong-footed by the question and Helena wasn't feeling much better. "I don't think it is for me to say. . ." Eragon said uncertainly.

Helena was extremely hesitant about offering any negative opinion, considering the hot waters she may already be in, but he _had_ asked. "I find it hard to believe you truly could do nothing to help," she still made her voice as careful as possible.

"So?" Oromis pressed her.

He really _was_ asking for it. Helena dropped the pretense and spoke plainly. "So yea, I do think your reasons are insufficient."

Oromis nodded as if he had expected that answer. "Thankfully, I do have other reasons." He turned back to Orik. "Understand, Orik, that Glaedr and I cannot fight. Glaedr has his disability, and I," he touched the side of his head, "I am also maimed. The Forsworn broke something within me when I last fought them, and while I can still teach and learn, I can no longer control my magic, except for the smallest amounts. The power escapes me, no matter how much I struggle. I would be worse than useless in battle, I would be a weakness and a liability, one who could easily be captured and used against you. So I removed myself from Galbatorix's influence for the good of the many, even though I yearned to openly oppose him."

 _Then why the test._ And she was sure it had been a test. _Why not just say that._

Orik bowed his head. "Forgive me."

"It is of no consequence." And Oromis returned his gaze to the junior Riders. "Islanzadi, by your leave?" He didn't take his intent gaze away from them as he addressed the queen.

Thankfully, the queen seemed to still be too chastised to find offence. "Just go." And with that, she and the rest of their entourage left the dragons and riders alone. Orik offering a small word of encouragement as he left.

"Come with us; we have much to talk about," Ormis said. Glaedr crouched low, allowing Oromis to climb on his back.

Helena and Eragon again exchanged excited glances and then quickly mounted. Glaedr's take-off literally left both younger dragons in the dust, but then they too were in the air.

They followed the cliff's edge, flying just sideways of the deep ravine. The distance they travelled wasn't short, but the dragon's traversed it in only a few minutes. They landed at another clearing, which looked manmade, or well. . . elfmade. A small hut that looked barely large enough to accommodate one of the younger dragons, let alone Glaedr stood to the side. Unlike other elves buildings, this hut didn't go out of its way to show that it was still alive and part of nature, despite closer inspection proving that it was.

"Welcome to my home," Oromis said and looked over the cliff. In the distance below they saw another forest stretching out like a great ocean. "These are called the Crags of Tel'naeír. I live here because it provides me the opportunity to think away from the bustling of Ellesméra. The cliff also provides Glaedr the opportunity to stretch his wings without straying very far from me, a luxury we are not above enjoying."

Helena expected Oromis to invite them inside his hut, instead he motioned for them to stay put as he retrieved three stools which he placed outside in the sun, and three flagons of water which he placed between them. He sat down and motioned for the humans to join him.

Helena sat down and waited. She admitted that sitting outside was a nice idea to stay outside; the sun created a pleasant warmth on her skin. The wind coming from the open cliff was just strong enough to provide a pleasant distracting sensation without being uncomfortable. The dragons settled down and tried to make themselves comfortable. Both younger dragons were still studying their elder kin. The seconds tricked by in silence and she waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Oromis' eyes were almost closed and his head was turned to fully enjoy the sun's rays. He looked like he was in anything but a hurry. Helena looked sideways, and met Eragon's gaze. He shrugged and looked away.

 _'This is a test of patience,'_ Helena said to Godric.

 _'Yes,'_ he replied easily.

Helena thought for a moment and decided that she was annoyed, and the annoyance grew with every minute of nothing. She had an idea and shared it with Godric.

 _'If you are trying to make a good impression, then that is the last thing you should do. '_

'He seemed to already think I'm rebellious anyway.'

That was the conclusion she drew from that small test earlier. Besides, she thought her idea was clever.

 _'Then by all means, prove him right,'_ Godric drawled.

Helena decided that was as much permission as she needed and sat up straight in her chair. "One," she said, breaking the silence.

Oromis calmly turned his head and looked at her intently, but did not speak.

"Two," she said after what she judged to be ten more seconds.

Eragon too looked at her, but his was clearly one of confusion.

Helena let another rough ten seconds pass before saying, "Three."

She continued to count very slowly, making it to nine before somebody else did something.

Glaedr's voice rang out. ' _Are you trying to prove that you can count to ten, child?'_

Helena looked at the large dragon and tried to look innocent. "Oh, not at all. You see, the Varden are at war and may need our help. But it was decided that this was too important so we came here instead of staying. But I am well aware that they are worse off while we are away. I am just counting away the lives that might be lost because we are spending time here on a test of patience instead of actually doing anything."

Eragon cringed at her rudeness and looked away.

"Except," Oromis began slowly and he didn't sound angry and he reminded her of Dumbledore again. "If you hadn't come here to learn, Galbatorix would have certainly defeated you, and then where would the Varden be?"

"And there is nothing more important we could be doing with our time than this? Which is nothing?"

"Do you think I want Galbatorix defeated?" Oromis asked.

Helena smelled a trap and took a moment to respond. "Yea."

"Then why do you think I would ever waste what valuable time we have?"

"That was my question wasn't it?"

"And what is your best guess as to the answer?"

It didn't take long to think of an answer. "You believe patience is important enough."

"And do you believe that patience isn't important enough to warrant an hour or two to test it?"

Did this elf ever answer in anything but questions?

"I. . . don't see how patience is going to help us kill Galbatorix in a duel."

Oromis looked at Eragon. "I hear you are quite the swordsman. Do you agree that patience isn't important in a duel?"

"No. Not at all. You need to be able to read and respond to your opponent's moves. If you act too hasty, your opponent could take advantage of that, and you would miss any openings your opponent might make."

Oromis looked back to Helena, and she almost wished he looked more smug. It would have been easier to be annoyed at that than this complete serenity. "Well, do you have anything else to say?"

Helena didn't.

"I have spent more than four centuries as a teacher. Do you think it might be possible that when I consider something important, and you consider something unimportant, there is a good chance that you are the one who is wrong?"

"Okay, your right. I am sorry. I just feel like there is a lot to do and little time to do it in."

"You are right, there is much to do and little time for it. But can you trust me to spend our time wisely?"

"Yes," she breathed. "I am sorry," she repeated.

Oromis nodded. "I accept your apology, but know that you failed your first test."

Helena felt her throat constrict uncomfortably.

"Now let me have a look at your hands," He presented his open palm. " I find they tell me a great deal about a person."

Helena gave her his hand and Oromis used his free hand to run over her palm lines. "Small, and not a great deal of calluses, but neither can I call them delicate. Correct me if I am wrong. You're not used to heavy labour, but neither are you used to an easy life." Helena managed to refrain from snorting. "A few faint irregular scars that indicate a few interesting anecdotes at the very least." _Anyone could have guessed that._ Trelawney had forever soured her on palm reading. "You are used to doing a lot of writing and or drawing, am I right?"

"Euhm sir. . ."

Oromis looked up and met her eyes. "If you plan to be my student, you will address me as master, or ebrithil when we speak the ancient language, nothing else. Glaedr will be due the same curtesy," he looked from Eragon towards Saphira and Godric. "This goes for all of you. As your teachers, we are due some respect and deference."

Amazingly, both Godric and Helena felt only the slightest spark of rebelliousness when it came to heading those commands; a spark that didn't really go anywhere. This elf had a way of making them feel like eleven year old children meeting Dumbledore for the first time.

"Euhm, master sir–" Oromis smiled faintly. "–How much do you already know? You knew our names and hinted that you kept an eye on us."

"I don't know as much as you may think. I tried to keep informed about the most important developments, but I tried to allow you some privacy. I would very much like to hear your story, when we have a moment."

"Sure."

Oromis gave her her hand back, and asked for Eragon's next. His finger traced Eragon's calluses. Helena remembered being held by those hands often enough to know the feel of those scars.

"Again, correct me if I am wrong, you are more used to wielding a scythe and plow more often than a sword, though you are accustomed to a bow."

"All true."

"And you are not used to wielding a pen or brush. I don't mean to offend, but can you write?"

"Brom taught me my letters in Teirm."

"Beyond that, I see that you have as many marks on you as your peer, more even."

"I don't think my life has been as interesting as hers sir– I mean master."

"Perhaps it is simply a difference in the way you two handle problems?" Oromis suggested.

"I try to keep my distance from enemies if I can help it," Helena offered with a shrug. "That might have something to do with it."

 _'It is one of the few things I envy Godric for,'_ Saphira commented. ' _He can keep his Rider safe without hindering her ability to contribute.'_

"Yes, I have realized you have some unusual abilities – previously never seen in Alagaesia," Oromis said to her as he released Eragon's hand. "I hope that you can help me understand your abilities. It is wise to keep cultivating those, even as you explore the traditional powers of the Ancient Language."

"Yea, about that," Helena said slowly. "I still haven't been able to access that power. I am not even sure that I can"

"We'll see," Oromis said ambiguously. "Now, it seems to me that anyone with such a collection of scars has either been hopelessly unfortunate, fights without regards for their own wellbeing, or deliberately seeks out danger. Do any of you feel like you fight recklessly?"

"No," said Eragon. "Master," he added after a second.

"I nominate the first option," Helena said and her mouth hang open, unsure whether she was supposed to add master or not.

"So says the woman that fervently throws herself in a war not her own. I believe a case can defiantly be made for the last option," Oromis said. "Or do you disagree?"

"I couldn't just do nothing," Helena said defensively.

"Evidently you couldn't." Oromis turned his gaze at Eragon. "And what say you?"

"I think that rather than seek out danger, I fully commit to a path or goal and will see it through no matter the obstacles." His hand briefly brushed against hers. "Especially when those I love are in danger."

It Helena smiled dreamily until Oromis drew attention to himself with a soft cough. "I suspected at much from my observations, but are you two romantically involved?"

"We are," Helena said immediately.

"Then there are a couple of things I need to tell you. First, allow me to reassure you that such a relationship is far from forbidden; it is expected even. Human Rider had difficulties in finding partners outside of other human Riders, relatively small though that group was. The massive age difference between them and their elven peers, and the prospect of immortality between them and their mortal kin made any other choice rife with difficulties."

That was expected. Helena had even guessed some of those things before. Perhaps it had even played a part in how open she was to the idea of this relationship.

"Second," and now Oromis looked a lot more serious. "Know that we absolutely cannot afford any _accidents_ , as you would call them. If you need them, I can provide you with herbs that can prevent pregnancy. But we simply cannot afford to have Helena that vulnerable for the months that would take."

"Don't worry," Helena said hastily, suspecting that her face was turning a nice shade of red. Eragon was looking much the same. "I have a magic solution that prevents any such thing."

"Good. But I will give you some herbs just to be sure. It is better to rely on more than one method when it comes to these things. I will also teach Eragon a spell to that affect, and you too once you can it."

"Yes, master," they echoed, both looking mortified.

"And on the subject of children, know that any children you may have will not inherit your immortality. You will need to watch them grow old and die as you remain unchanged. There were many Riders who decided that they wouldn't sire children for that reason, and none ever tried to start another family after they watched their first one wither away with time."

Helena hadn't thought that far ahead, but now the prospect did seem disturbing.

"And human elven couples? Did they have immortal children," Eragon asked curiously.

"There has never been a half human half elven child. As far as we know, such a thing is impossible. Halfbreeds seem to be impossible between any of the intelligent races of Alagaesia. We call ourselves different races, but if we were to call ourselves different species, that wouldn't be inaccurate. To get back to what's relevant to you, Helena, is that while you may have received an elf's lifespan, your reproductive capabilities haven't changed. Elven women stay fertile for their entire life, though it is extremely difficult for them to conceive. Human women that are turned Riders however, are just as fertile as they were before, but also reach menopause at the same age as other humans, despite their new extended lifespan."

How Oromis was capable of talking about her fertility in the same way one would talk about a potion recipe was beyond her, but Helena felt an intense desire to apparate to literally anywhere else. "I just feel like this is something you deserve to know about, and I am obligated to inform you off," Oromis said.

It was a moot point, since the same potion that made her infertile did so by halting the activity of her reproductive organs, almost like a very localized freezing charm. She could affectively turn the thirty to forty years of fertility she had on and off whenever she wanted. At least she hoped that was how it worked; she was a unique case, after all.

"Third, and this might seem premature but I have no idea how serious you two are– " Helena couldn't help but glare incredulously at that. He had just finished talking about their future children! "-under no circumstances will you two make any marriage vows, or anything similar, to each other in the Ancient Language. I would insist on this ban even after Galbatorix is defeated."

"Why?" Eragon demanded, frowning in a way that indicated he might have actually been thinking something along those lines.

"Phrases like, 'till death,' or 'for all of eternity' become a lot more daunting when you can live for over a millennia. You may love each other now, but the people you are now will not be the people you will be in a thousand years, if you live that long. If you truly want to stay together forever, you will have that option, but I see no value in binding yourself together with magic."

"Is that why Elves don't marry?" Helena recalled Orik mentioning something along those line.

"Not as you would understand it, no. We stay together for however long we want, and then we part ways."

"But doesn't that cheapen a bond, when it can be broken on a whim," Eragon said and he sounded just as sceptical of the notion as Orik had been.

"You don't need to be bound by oaths to realize that worthwhile relationships are hard and take work. When elves pick a partner, we know that they choose to stay together of their own free will. That is a choice they make every day. If that choice is sometimes hard, that makes it all the more valuable when they do choose to stay together. What value is their in perseverance if the choice to leave isn't there?"

From the consternation on his face, it was clear that Eragon was having trouble wrapping his head around this. Helena for her part found herself convinced. Magical oaths that last for such a long lifetime should be treated with caution.

"Lastly, it is important that you do not allow your affection to interfere with your studies and duties. The fate of the world rests on your shoulder, and cruel as this may sound, the world is more important than any of us. Ask yourself: would I choose my love over the world? And be prepared to make that choice."

Eragon and Helena shared an uncomfortable look.

"Galbatorix knows how to use that which we value against us, and I am not just talking about your romantic feelings. Threatening a dragon or his Rider in order to force the submission of one is favourite tactic of Galbatorix. Do not for a moment believe he won't use your feelings against you."

'So if Galbatorix captures one of us. . .?" Eragon trailed off.

"My advice is to prepare yourself for such a scenario. My advice is to ignore any lethal threats against any of us. It may sound harsh, but that is often the best thing you can do."

"I am not sure if I am are capable of that," Helena admitted.

"By all means, see if you can think of a better alternative. All I ask is that you do not wait to think about this until it is too late."

"Yes, ebrithil," Helena said. She decided she liked ebrithil better than master. It didn't have the same connotation.

"Yes, ebrithil," Eragon echoed.

 _'The same applies to you two,'_ Glaedr sounded, looking at the two much smaller dragons. _I know it is hard, but I need you to not be paralyzed with indecision if your Rider is threatened. Inaction is as likely to doom you both as action._

Helena remembered how easily both Godric and Saphira had surrendered when the Ra'zac had threatened both Riders. And how Godric had frozen when one of the twins held a knife to her throat.

"Every time such a scenario happened, waiting has been to our benefit," Eragon said what Helena was thinking and he quickly summarized both hostage situations.

"I don't suggest one solution to every problem, far from it, all I ask is to think on these things so you will be able to act if needed. And to get back to my original point, I can't have you two get so caught up in each other that your studies will be inhibited.

"Yes, ebrithil," both Riders said, and Oromis nodded.

"Good. Next, how you were able to defend yourself from magical tracking? Two weeks ago I was no longer able to scry you."

"Gannel, a priest in Tarnag, gave us magical trinkets to protect ourselves from scrying," Eragon said, displaying his flame shaped neckless. Helena also reached under her shirt to display the silver hammer shaped neckless.

"May I see it?" Oromis asked and they handed over the items. Oromis' lips moved and Helena could only barely make out any of the words he whispered over the items. "These are valuable gifts. It doesn't cover all the manners in which someone could magically spy on you, as I have confessed to doing on occasion, but it will make it a lot harder for anyone who doesn't already know where you are."

"What do you mean by that, ebrithil?" Eragon asked.

"Are you familiar with the basics of scrying?" Oromis asked in return. "Yes," Eragon replied. "This neckless prevents anyone from you using you as the focus of any scrying." Eragon waited for anything more, but Oromis was smiling again. "Think, Eragon, what is the answer?"

It only took him a few seconds. "It doesn't prevent you from scrying other people that happen to be nearby, and so getting around the necklace's protection, and. . . can you directly scry a landscape you have seen before?"

"Indeed you can, so long as you have been there once before. It was customary for Riders to see as much of the world as possible, and so increase the utility of their scrying."

"Is that how you went around the enchantment?"

"No. I allowed my spirit to travel the distance and brushed against the thoughts of all living things, including yours."

"We didn't notice anything," Helena said, ignoring for the moment the new knowledge that it was even possible to send your thoughts out that far.

"I didn't touch any of your minds; I merrily listened to the echoes of your thoughts. I could do no more than confirm your location and check that you were still alive. There is more to the mind arts than direct contact, be we are getting ahead of ourselves." He handed back the trinkets. "These contain no other hidden magics that I can detect. They are valuable gifts and you should wear them always."

The smile on Oromis dimmed and he looked at them heavily. "You came here because you felt the need to become stronger, did you not?"

Both junior Riders nodded. "Brom didn't succeed in teaching me all that he knew, and I know I am not a match for Galbatorix as I am now," Eragon said.

"Neither am I," Helena agreed. "But I also hoped to discover more about how I came to be here and how to get back – I have no intention of leaving while I am needed!" she hastened to add. Mentioning the purely selfish goal for coming made her feel dirty, but there was nothing for it. "But if possible, I would like to at least send a message."

"I will look into it when I have the time," Oromis told her, but Helena got the feeling it wasn't much of a priority. "So what is it you hope to learn from me?"

"Spells, swordsmanship, tactics. . ." Eragon guessed. "If you know of a way to unlock my Rider powers, that would help," Helena added.

"Power is useless unless you know how and when to use it. That is what I will teach you. As Galbatorix has demonstrated, power without moral direction is the most dangerous force in the world. My main task will be to help all of you understand what principles guide you, so that you do not make the right choices for the wrong reasons, and this will prevent you from making the wrong choices for seemingly good reasons. You must learn more about yourself and who you are. That is why you are here."

Again, Helena had to clench her teeth to avoid saying anything risky.

"I can tell you are holding your tongue, Helena. Do not mistake my insistence on respect to mean you can't seek to understand my reasons."

Helena relaxed and was about to respond when Eragon beat her to it.

"I know what she is thinking, master, because I am too," Eragon said and breathed heavily. "I understand the importance of reflection, purpose, and morals, but all of that will be– and I am sorry master but. . . I fear it will be pointless if we don't have the skill and strength to defeat Galbatorix. We can devote the rest of our lives to understanding ourselves after Galbatorix has fallen."

Oromis opened his mouth to respond, but then he stiffened and his face grew pained and red. Helena feared they had made him angry until he hugged himself with trembling hands, and she realized he was in terrible pain.

Both Helena and Eragon stood up, both feeling the urgency to do something but neither having any clue what to do.

 _'Be calm,'_ Gleadr's voice sounded as pained as Oromis looked, while simultaneously lacking its normal gravity, like he didn't have any energy to spare. _'Be calm."_

They both did as they saw Oromis return to normal albeit more worn, and slowly sat back down.

"Are you well?" Eragon asked.

"Less so than I might wish," Oromis smiled wryly. "We elves fancy ourselves immortal, but not even we can escape certain maladies of the flesh, which are beyond our knowledge to do more than delay. It's not contagious don't worry, but I can't rid myself of it." He sighed. "I have spent decades binding myself with hundreds of small, weak spells that, when layered upon one another, duplicate abilities and magics that are now beyond me. I did it so that I could live long enough to pass on my knowledge to our successors. This latest episode of mine does nicely to illustrate why I can't just wait until Galbatorix is defeated to teach you that which is most important. Beyond that, Galbatorix is deviously cunning. If your beliefs do not have a solid foundation, Galbatorix will turn your own hearts against you."

Helena opened her mouth uncertainly and after a nod from Oromis spoke. "I find it difficult to imagine that Galbatorix could tell me anything that would make me stop fighting, or worse join him."

"Of course you don't," Oromis said as if he found the idea amusing. "If you were capable of imagining any words that could turn you, you would already be swayed." Oromis' fingertips touched as they pointed towards her. "For you in particular, learning more about yourself will be beneficial. You see, elves don't need to use the crude method that Brom thaught you to access the Rider's magical powers. The reason for that is, as best as we can guess, that all elves instinctually know our true names, which gives us incredible self-knowledge and control. So the first thing that I want you to do is also immediately one of the hardest, find your own true name."

The very concept of true names had baffled Helena the moment she heard of them. How could you describe the totality of who a person is in less than a billion words?

"And what about me?" Eragon asked. "I already know to use magic– our magic. So how is this– I mean," He stumbled over his words. He breathed in a way Helena thought betrayed his stress. "I am afraid master. A lot rests on our shoulders, and I am still afraid I won't become strong enough to make a difference, not with all the self-knowledge in the world."

"Have no fear, we won't neglect that part of your training," Oromis reassured. "I will do whatever I can to make sure you succeed in your quest, but know that there is a limit in how far simple knowledge of magic can take you. You have powerful abilities already, but you need a strong mind to be able to use them to their full effect. This, too, I hope to teach you. At least as much as I can. I must condense decades worth of instructions into a timespan of only a few months. If you thought your stay in Ellesmere would be relaxing, you are mistaken, for there is much work to be done."

"We will study harden than any students you have ever seen before," Eragon declared, and then looked to Helena.

"Yes, of course," Helena agreed quickly. Truthfully though, she still felt uncertain. None of this was going the way she expected, but if discovering more about herself might unlock more of her powers, it had to be worth trying.

"Good, for I ask nothing less." Oromis said. "Now get up and remove your tunics, I want to see what you are made off."

"Wait," Eragon said hastily and again Helena could feel his tension. "Before you agree to teach me anything, there is something that I have to tell you." Another shuddering breath fallowed. "I am sure you are familiar with Morzan."

"Of course, he was one of my pupils once, alongside Brom."

Helena could guess what Eragon was going to say, but wasn't too worried. She couldn't imagine someone like Oromis truly holding a grudge, let alone transferring it to an innocent relative.

"I see. Well, I feel it is my duty to tell you that he is my– my father." It was clear that Eragon felt dirty even saying it.

Oromis smiled. "There is no problem and we talk about that later, but for now we can't be distracted further."

 _If there is no problem, then why talk about it?_

"If we are going to do confessions, I also have something to say," Helena said.

"Go on."

"I passed on what Brom thought me about the Ancient Language to a female magician in the Varden. I did it partly because she needed to be strong enough to beat one of the twins – a couple of traitors – in a magical duel, and partly because I didn't feel it was right to withhold secrets that our allies could use to defend themselves."

"And attack," Oromis added.

"And attack," Helena conceded. "The point is, I didn't feel like we had a right to keep knowledge of magic to ourselves when it could be used to help the Varden. And yes, it might be abused, but to be fair, some of the Riders ended up going astray as well."

"You're not apologizing, you're justifying," Oromis pointed out.

"I guess I am. I just thought that it was something that might make you wary of teaching me anything, so I felt it was best to be upfront about it."

"As it so happens, I already knew about what you did with the sorceress Trianna. I was going to bring it up before long, but I am glad you did. Yes, Helena, I do take issue with what you did, though perhaps not for the reason you assume. For over a thousand years, the elves and Riders hoarded the knowledge of the Ancient Language. Do you know the reasons for it?"

"I am assuming they didn't think humans could be trusted with that kind of power."

"You're not wrong. Do you disagree?"

"Well. . ." There really wasn't a diplomatic way to say this without throwing at least some dirt at the old order. "I think it is arrogant for anyone to think what they are and aren't ready for."

"Parents do that to their children all the time," Oromis reasoned calmly.

"Yes, but – no matter the age difference – elves are not the keepers of humans."

"But Riders are, and remember, all the human riders agreed with this policy."

"I remember Brom telling me that human Riders weren't thought magic until their elders deemed them ready. I assume that meant until they were convinced of the so called 'conventional wisdom'."

"You are only half right," Oromis chided. "Before a human rider was taught magic, they first needed to learn critical thinking and decision making. Riders could and did occasionally grant some limited knowledge to individual humans, if they thought they would treat it with the caution it deserves. But you seem to think that everyone deserves that knowledge."

"I don't think anybody has the right to hoard knowledge. Where I come from all knowledge of magic was publicly available."

"Truly?" Oromis didn't sound disbelieving, but merely curious.

"Well, there were a few Dark Arts that were forbidden because they were too evil."

"Then even your people recognise that some things are best taught with caution. Now tell me, since you seem so certain of your decision, all the reasons and arguments that your predecessors had for not wildly teaching magic, and then tell me why those reasons are invalid. Also tell me all the possible changes this will introduce to human society."

Helena tried to think of any other reasons the Riders of old could have had for acting the way they did, but Oromis interrupted her thoughts after only five seconds. "Since you have already made the decision, you should already know the answer to all of these questions."

"There was a time limit," Helena said defensively. "And the library in _Tronjheim_ was large, if the answers could even be found there."

"You could have asked Arya," Oromis suggested.

"She would have stopped us."

"And perhaps she would have good reason to do so. At the very least you needed to give someone more knowledgeable a change to convince you you are wrong," Oromis stood up and despite his fragility and calm voice, he suddenly felt just as intimidating as Dumbledore could be when he was angry. "I do think you made the wrong choice, but of more offense to me is the way you made it. The traditions of the Riders are the result of thousands of years of philosophers trying to find the best possible answers. They deserve more than a second thought from you. It is incredibly easy to assume that all those who disagree and hold different views than you are driven by ignorance, arrogance, greed, and even malice. There are benefits to doing so. It gives people certainty and convection, which a lot of people need to fight for what they believe. But you are a Rider. You are both Riders. Civilizations may rise and fall based on your success and failures, and I hold you both to a much higher standard than most people."

"It's partly my responsibility master," Eragon said.

"Yes it is," Oromis said bluntly. "Did you just go along with what Helena wanted?"

Having Eragon get lectured for something she did felt worse than being blamed herself.

"I wasn't sure what the right course of action was," Eragon replied.

"If that was why you didn't act, then you need to learn that doubt isn't inherently inferior to certainty."

Oromis turned his grey eyes back to her and she wanted to apparate away again. "Under normal circumstances, I would not consider teaching you anything more until you learn the value of humility. Ignorance can be easily cured, arrogance cannot. But as you said, there is a time limit and I need to take risks. But this one again illustrates why it is important for you to learn more about yourself."

"Yes, ebrithil," her voice was leaden.

Oromis looked to Godric. "And you?"

 _'I would have preferred to just kill the twins directly, but I am not sure that would be better.'_ Godric sounded indifferent.

Oromis sighed and exchanged a meaningful look with Glaedr before turning back to the Riders. "Alright, you haven't heard the last of this, but for now, stand up and take off everything besides your underclothes."

There was only some minor embarrassment when Helena took of her tunic and gloves, leaving her with only pants and bra. Both the changing and shower rooms of her old quidditch team were mixed sex anyway. She did take some delight in how Eragon tried not to stare at her, though it was tempered by the figurative dressing down she had just received.

Oromis circled her and inspected her critically. "Not a powerful built, unsuited for more conventional combat, but you have a lot scars despite that." He motioned to her forearm. "That looks like a snakebite."

"A large female cobra called Nagini bit me there."

"Is it scar you can't or won't heal? Either by yourself or by someone else."

"It would be difficult. The snake was permeated by a lot of dark magic that would make its bites hard to heal." The bite from the basalisk from her second year had been completely healed, but that was only due to Fawkes' tears.

"And those words on your hand?"

Helena lifted her hand and inspected the words _'I must not tell lies'_ permanently engraved there. "Someone didn't like what I was saying, and I needed to write these words in my own blood. I also can't get rid of these."

"Does that happen often?" Oromis asked as he grabbed her arm and checked it for muscle mass. "Someone doesn't listen to the truths you tell?"

"Well. . ." The honest answer was yes, but that felt childish. "On occasion."

"Have you been wrong often?"

"Oh yes," she said immediately. Who was trying to steal the Philosopher Stone, Sirius' role in her parent's death, and his attempted rescue were all things she had been incredibly wrong about. "I am not incapable of admitting fault ebrithil, if that is what you think of me."

Oromis sighed. "All I think of you is what I have seen so far. You are stubborn, which is sometimes good and sometimes bad. I don't dislike you child, if that is what you think. I am merrily trying to impart that you have a lot left to learn." Helena lowered her head dully. She didn't think Oromis was wrong, but that made it all the more upsetting. She had saved the world before; you'd think she'd know the difference between right and wrong by now. Her moral fiber was one of things she was most proud of and to have it questioned by someone that she already recognized as a wise old man stung terribly.

Oromis moved over to inspect Eragon next. "You show a fair amount of muscle and are not as lopsided as most swordsman. Are you ambidextrous?"

"Not really, but Brom thought me how to fight lefthanded after breaking my wrist after Urgals attacked us near Teirm."

"Good, that will save us some time." Oromis looked at Helena expectantly.

"I am not ambidextrous, and I can't really use a sword."

Oromis frowned at that. "Didn't Brom try to teach you?"

"He said I was hopeless and gave me a staff instead, though I don't use that much either."

"Trust me, she doesn't need it," Eragon said dryly

Oromis frowned. "Very well, I won't insist, so long as you practice diligently with it. And it does neatly get around our lack of Rider swords. I still advice you to learn how to use a blade if possible, since it is an excellent exercise in coordination and reflexes."

Helena merely shrugged. She didn't consider a priority.

"Now let's see how flexible you both are." Oromis then got them to demonstrate what Helena guessed was every stretching exercise that could be found in a yoga manual. This was one of the few physical attribute were her gender probably played in her favour, and only the most ludicrous of maneuvers – like touching her feet with her outstretched hands by leaning backwards – alluded her. It helped that stretching was one of those things they did as a warmup before quidditch practice, so this wasn't new ground for her. She had also never lacked for special awareness and balance which was her saving grace when it came to any physical exercise. Eragon didn't do too badly either, but stretching wasn't something he was practiced at, and he could barely touch his feet with arms and legs outstretched.

"Do you do any of these exercises after sparring?" Oromis asked.

"Not as much as we should," Eragon admitted guiltily. Brom had occasionally reminded them when he was still with them, but when he died he took that extra discipline with him. Their practice was still intensive, but it also got a more distinct casual feel to it.

"You have recognised a personal shortcoming. A lot of people are capable of that, but only very few have the will and discipline to improve themselves accordingly."

"We will be one of those few master," Eragon promised. "Indeed," Helena chimed in. Oromis obviously had very high standards, and she longed to meet them. That was not to say she thought he was right about her. Her decision to share magical knowledge might have been hasty, but she still didn't think the decision was _wrong_.

"Good, I expect nothing less," Oromis turned his attention to Saphira and Godric, but it was Glaedr who spoke. 'Now it is time we put the two of you to the test.'

Helena felt Godric's excitement rise at the chance to prove himself. What followed resembled the games the dragons usually played amongst each other. Doing dangerous and seemingly impossible maneuvers in the air just to prove to the other that they could, except at someone else's direction in this case.

"Let's leave them to it," Oromis said after a few minutes, leaving Glaedr to instruct his juniors. Oromis then proceeded to quiz both Riders on their knowledge of. . . everything basically. From basic knowledge of Alagaesia's history, the Ancient Language, math, and even some natural science. What Helena knew of those last two was only what she could remember from primary school, what limited mundane knowledge Hogwarts taught, which wasn't much. Despite having absolutely no formal education before he met Brom, Eragon actually had a better showing than her, though she could tell Oromis wasn't impressed by either of them. Even Eragon had trouble answering anything even remotely advanced. At the end he shook his head despondently. "You both have so much to learn still, and there is so little time."

The booming sound of a dragon landing alerted them that they were done. Oromis' questioning had demanded so much attention that Helena hadn't had much opportunity to follow how Godric was doing. Something she made sure Godric knew she was disappointed by.

Glaedr gave his assessment. _'Watching you two makes me wonder if coddled our young back in_ _Vroengard. If they were forced to take care of themselves, perhaps they would have your skill. Especially you Saphira. Godric, you are good, but Saphira is currently the better flier, but I am sure you already know this.'_ _Helena could tell Godric was trying to wrestle his own wounded pride into submission and not get upset. She could also tell it was very difficult for him._

'Currently,'

 _Saphira wondered teasingly, like it was given that she would always be better._

 _'Currently,'_ _Glaedr repeated, making the word sound like a reprimand._ _'There is no gap in skill that cannot be overcome with diligent practice. Especially over timeframes as long as our lives can be. Godric, you have more areas you can improve in, which means that when your training ends, you will be closer to Saphira's skill than when you started, while Saphira won't have improved as much.'_

'Because she is already close to perfect?'

 _Godric couldn't help but sound bitter. Still, Glaedr words had instilled some measure of optimism in him, and for that, Helena was grateful._

 _'I also think we are lucky there are two of them,'_ _Oromis joined the mental conversation._ _'They push each other to go further than they would have on their own.'_ _He continued on with spoken words. "Now let us retire to my cabin for lunch. Afterwards, I have an important story to tell."_

Due to the small size of the house, they had to leave the dragons outside. The house did have some large open windows that allowed the dragons to look in.

Oromis' house gave the first impression of being frugal, but that was only due to the humble building style that wouldn't look out of place on any peasant's residence. There were hundreds of books and scrolls neatly lined up in antique looking closets and cubbyholes. Several parchments and writing utensils were laid out on a workbench. No poor family could afford those. It seemed that antique was a favourite among important thinkers in this world. Hrothgar and Ajihad's studies were much the same.

As Helena and Eragon followed Oromis' gestured instructions and sat at the table, they noticed the most obvious sign of wealth. On the wall next to the door and perfectly visible from the kitchen, melting seamlessly with the wood, hung a beautiful paining about ten inches high and twenty wide. Though she called it a painting in her head, it was too clean and perfect to be done with paint and brush. To the side of the picture hung a golden sheath that Helena suspected contained Oromis' Rider blade. The handle, the only part of the blade visible, was iridescent bronze except for the cross guard which was ivory white.

"Is that a real place?" Eragon asked, nodding at the picture. It depicted a large towering city, against a backdrop of an luminescent harvest moon that just peaked above the horizon.

Oromis gave the picture a grave look. "Yes, and you would do well to remember it, Eragon, for there lies the heart of our misery. That is a fairth of Ilirea, before it became known as Urû'baen. I made it on the night that I and the others were forced to abandon the city when Galbatorix and his forces defeated us there."

"You painted this. . . fairth?"

"No, not at all. A fairth is an image fixed by magic upon a surface of polished slate that is prepared beforehand with layers of pigments. The landscape upon that wall is exactly how I remember Ilirea at the moment I uttered my spell. More questions must wait. First we will eat and then I have a story to tell."

Despite Oromis' statement, Eragon looked so impatient that the elf amusedly allowed him to continue his questions, so long as he didn't speak with his mouth full. So they learned that Oromis came from a city called Luthivíra, which surprisingly wasn't anywhere in Du Weldenvarden, but North East of Surda in the Silverwood forest. Like all elven settlements outside of Du Weldenvarden, it now stood abandoned. Like every other elf at that time, he had been presented to the eggs that the dragons had entrusted to the Riders, and Glaedr had hatched for him. He and Glaedr were trained for nearly a century – the same training they now needed to do in a few months – before they travelled the world doing Vrael's will.

"Eventually it was deemed appropriate for us to retire and pass on our experience to the next generation. We took up a post in Ilirea and taught new Riders, one or two at a time, until Galbatorix destroyed us."

"I thought all new Riders were trained in Vroengard?" Eragon wondered.

"Eventually, yes, but human Riders were first trained in _Ilirea. Once they passed_ Tuatha du orothrim –" Helena _remembered that meant 'tempering the fools wisdom' "– they joined the others in Vroengard. You will be interested to know that the last pair of Riders that I trained had your father among them. They were Brom and Morzan."_

Eragon nodded somberly and Helena wondered why the hell Oromis' eyes had an amused glint to them. The old elf didn't seem the type to feel amused at somebody else's expense and it made Helena suspect something else was afoot.

"What were they like?" Eragon asked.

"At what point? Brom and Morzan were thirteen and sixteen respectively when they began their training. Who they were was not who they became, just like who you are now isn't who you will be a century from now."

Eragon opened his mouth, but Oromis halted him with a raised hand. "Please, Eragon, just eat and let me tell you the story. If you still have questions afterwards, I will answer."

Eragon nodded.

"Brom came from Kuasta." Helena was by now familiar enough with the geography of Alagasia to know Kuasta was a seaside village south of Teirm. This particular stretch of sea intruded further inland a way that it was actually easier for ships heading for Surda to bypass it altogether, except for those that needed to hug the coast to be seaworthy. "He came from a family off illuminators. His parents were Nelda and Holcomb. Kuasta is so isolated from the rest of Alagaesia that it has some peculiar customs. When he first arrived in Ilirea Brom insisted on knocking on a door three times before entering any building, even if the door was already open. All the other humans teased him mercilessly about it, and he eventually stopped doing that, among other things. As for Morzan, he was an orphan from Dras-Leona. I can hardly imagine a more difficult youth, which was why I was so forgiving for his early behaviour. Something that I regret now. Morzan was three years older than Brom, had a very assertive personality, and was very talented when it came to anything not related to philosophy and other academic pursuits. Sadly, this resulted in Brom looking up to him, which thankfully didn't result in him adopting his behaviour. Eventually I considered separating them, but before I could do so, Morzan helped Galbatorix steal a dragon hatchling, Shruikan, to replace the one he had lost, killing the dragon's original Rider in the process. Morzan and Galbatorix fled together, which would eventually end in our doom." _  
_  
"In the end, I think Brom's proudest moment was when he decided to stand against the forsworn. It might seem ludicrous to you now, but Brom joining the forsworn was something that I truly feared at that time. Morzan was Brom's best friend and it is not easy to stand up to those we love."

"You are right; that does seem ludicrous," Eragon said incredulously.

Oromis smiled. "Your reaction honours his memory. Brom's loyalty to us did not come without a price however, and when he fought Morzan, he lost, and his dragon, Saphira, was killed. From that moment on, Brom devoted all his time and energy to a single goal: Morzan's downfall. I would like to say he made the Varden because he wanted to defend freedom or some other high principle, but even for me, that would be expecting too much from Brom at that point."

Oromis paused, his face grave. "Do you know why losing your dragon or vice versa usually kills the survivor."

Helena and Eragon shared a look. "We can imagine," Eragon answered for both of them.

"It's possible to die immediately with your partner. The bond between dragon and riders constantly seeks to keep both parties together. It's just about impossible for one to be unable to find the other, even if they are on opposite sides of the continent. But this also means that when one dies, the bond will compel the survivor to follow the other into the void. For those who survive that moment, many are driven insane by losing a part of themselves, a part of their identity. And even those that avoid that are never the same afterwards. When Brom lost his dragon I managed to spirit him away to Elesmera to heal, but he refused to stay, instead insisting to participate in those last few battles that marked the end of Galbatorix's takeover. When that failed, Brom created the Varden solely because he needed resources if he wanted to resist Galbatorix and eventually kill he who he once called friend."

"The confusion and fear of that time was indescribable. Galbatorix was busy consolidating his power, the dwarves were retreating to the mountains, the riders were all but gone and with them anyone that could fight the forsworn on equal footing, let alone Galbatorix. As much as I feared for Brom's mental health, I can't deny how important he was in those early days. Without him, there may not have been a human resistance against the empire, which might have turned this conflict into a race war. Dwarves and elves against the human. Even if we won that battle, it would create even more problems."

"I can imagine," Helena mused.

"Brom gathered those that had been exiled, freed some who had been imprisoned, and with them he formed the Varden. He led them for a few years, then surrendered the position to another so he could take the field himself. Brom personally killed three of the Forsworn, including Morzan, and he was partly responsible for the death of five others."

"That still sounds incredible to me," Helena said.

Oromis smiled. "Ah, but the forsworn were not as they had been during The Fall. The free dragons, who as far as we know all died in the war, did not leave this world without one final act defiance. Somehow, they were able to strip the dragons of the Forsworn of their true names, something I don't think has ever been done before then."

"A true name is supposed to summarize a person's existence," Eragon recited what Brom had told them on the subject.

"Yes, and without it, a person in unable to have any true individualistic identity. This also meant that they couldn't describe themselves even in a mundane language. All their names, titles, and personalities were soon forgotten. They couldn't even call themselves dragons. The spell was all-encompassing in that everybody, even those not the targeted, were affected by it. Even I no longer know anything about them besides that they belonged to a certain Rider." Oromis stood up and retrieved a scroll from an a _cubbyholes and laid it open in front of both Riders. "Try to read this."_

Helena looked but found the words might have well been written in

Gobbledegook; she couldn't fathom how you would pronounce it. "Focus on a single word and try to remember the letters," Oromis said, and after a twenty seconds, returned the scroll to its spot. "Now try to remember what you saw."

Before Oromis had even asked her to remember, Helena had already noticed the knowledge flow through her mind like water through a sieve. "I think there was a letter F in their somewhere," Helena said with a hapless smile. The way this worked reminded her of the _Fidelius Charm, except even more powerful. The Fidelius couldn't strip a secret from people that already knew it. Brom had told her that dragons could do things that were impossible for anyone else, but this was the first concrete example of such. Saphira's crystal tomb for Brom and Godric's apparition were impossible by the standards of normal magicians in Alagaesia, but not by her standards. But this enchantment was something beyond anything her own people were capable off, though she still wouldn't go so far as to consider it truly impossible. Nothing truly seemed impossible to her anymore._

"If dragons can do that; I wonder how anything could ever have defeated them," Eragon said.

"I know that even the wisest of the old dragons do not fully understand their own powers. Perhaps the ancestral memory of the dragons connected them in a way that made the forsworn's dragons more vulnerable to a spell like this, though that seems unlikely. Perhaps the betrayal of the forsworn's dragons infuriated the wild dragons like nothing else did before then. Glaedr thinks that is the most likely explanation. In any case, it left those creatures as little more than beasts. This is also incidentally why some humans and dwarves consider the dragons little more than beasts; all the dragons they have ever known behaved as such. Five of the thirteen dragons and several of the Forsworn went mad as a result, and all were left diminished. This is part of the reason Brom had a chance to face them in combat, though don't think this made his task any less incredible. Remember that Brom too was nearly driven mad by the loss of his dragon; he was still at a constant disadvantage."

"But it is one particular attempt on Brom's part to undermine Morzan that I wished to talk about. Eragon, what do you know about your mother?"

"I know her name was Selena. That she was the sister of the man who raised me, that she left Carvahall when she was young, returned later to leave me with Garrow only to leave again, and that she used to be known as the Black Hand." Eragon paused. "And she once met a fortune teller who told her something that horrified her."

Helena looked at Eragon questioningly. "Angela," Eragon explained. "She told me the names of those who excepted her offer of a foretelling."

"You must already suspect why she left," Oromis guessed. "One day, Morzan visited the tavern in Carvahall while traveling on king Galbatorix's business and there Selena met him. Morzan was handsome and charismatic, and Selena responded well to him. Morzan must have seen something of value – perhaps he discovered her magical talents – and offered to taker her away from there and work for him."

Eragon frowned thoughtfully. "I want to call her stupid, but I can't. I admit to some youthful fantasies of leaving Carvahall and going on adventures myself when I was young–" a pause "–er. Passing fancies that I would never have acted on but I understand the appeal."

"As do I," Helena admitted easily. "Considering the hollowness of my early childhood, stranger danger wouldn't be enough to deter an adventure."

"Many young people feel the same. Whatever her reasons, she joined Morzan and became his most trusted servant and consort. Whether Morzan ever truly felt anything for her I cannot say, though I doubt it, but what I can say for certain is that Morzan took advantage of her skill and forged her into a dangerous enemy for the Varden. At that moment, nobody really knew much about her, and she became known as the Black Hand."

"She was duped by him," Eragon said. Helena supposed it was easier to believe your mother a fool than a villain.

"I would agree, and the reason I think Morzan didn't really care about her is what followed. During her tenure as the Black Hand, she became pregnant with Murtagh, and it was this event and how Morzan responded to it that we suspect began to plant seeds of doubt into Selena's heart. Your mother was forced to give Murtagh to a nurse and only allowed to see him on rare occasions. Again, we can only speculate on Morzan's reasons. Perhaps he wanted another way to control her, or he didn't want Selena to be distracted from her work."

"About twenty years ago, the Varden finally managed learn enough about her to know that she served Morzan above all others, even Galbatorix, and where she lived. Brom, upon learning this, set out to kill the Black Hand and so strike at Morzan. Since he couldn't predict where your mother might appear next, Brom travelled to Morzan's castle and spied upon it until he was able to devise a means of infiltrating the hold."

"Where was Morzan's castle?"

" _Is_ , not was; the castle still stands. It belongs to Galbatorix now, and is situated among the foothills of the Spine, near the north-western shore of Leona Lake. It is hard to find for those that do not know where to look. Morzan had done his best to secure the castle with magic, but the more subtle areas of magic were never his strong suit. Brom managed to infiltrate the castle by pretending to be a gardener. It was in that guise that Brom first met your mother."

Helena's eyes widened as she got an inkling of where this story was going.

"Whatever affection your mother had for Morzan seemed to have vanished due to his callous treatment of their son. Brom intended to seduce Selena, learn all he can from her, and then assassinate her. Brom succeeded in getting Selena to confide in him, but in so doing he discovered that they had more in common than he at first suspected. They had both been sucked into orbit around Morzan's charisma, and later their love for him grew into hate."

"When was this?" Eragon asked.

"About 17 years ago," Oromis answered, smiling.

"Then I wasn't born at that time," Eragon reasoned.

Oromis, still smiling, said, "No, you weren't."

"But if my mother grew to hate Morzan by that time, then. . . did he force her?"

Oromis shook his head. "Morzan died not long after, killed by Brom at Gil'ead." Oromis smile went away, but what replaced it was a look of sympathy. "Eragon, while Selena was your mother, Morzan was not your father."

"Then who–" Eragon jerked as realization hit him. "Brom?" he said incredulously. Oromis nodded.

Helena felt like she was intruding in some private moment, and fretted whether she should offer some words of support or give him space.

Oromis continued his narrative, perhaps to give Eragon time to process. "Despite Brom's original desire to kill Selena, he grew to care about her and she him. Eventually, Brom trusted her enough to tell her who he really was. His gamble payed off and your mother did not betray Brom to Morzan, but instead started to supply Brom and the Varden with information."

"Then whatever she was, what she became is someone worth admiring," Helena said. In her mind she saw this story as another example of a mother's love overcoming darkness.

"Whether what she did later in life made up for the crimes of the past is a matter of debate, but I believe it did," Oromis said. "If you need proof of how strong the bond between Brom and Selena became, then look at the lengths they went to see each other. Selena could not predict were Morzan would send her next, so if Brom wanted to see her he needed to stay at Morzan's castle for extended lengths of time. For nigh on three years, Brom served as one of Morzan's gardeners. Now and then, he would slip away to send a message to the Varden or to communicate with his spies throughout the Empire, but other than that, he did not leave the castle grounds."

"Three years?!" Eragon said with feeling. "Didn't Morzan recognise him? And couldn't Selena have just left with Brom? And what about his work with the Varden and his mission and–"

"One question at a time," Oromis halted him. "Brom was very good at disguising himself, and he and Morzan hadn't seen each other for many years. Selena could have left, but she felt obligated to help the Varden and Brom and the best way to do that was to stay at her post. Brom had already given up leadership of the Varden by that time, and was mostly independent, though as I mentioned, he still sent regular updates and kept in contact with other spies."

"And what of Murtagh? Couldn't she have left with him for his sake?"

"No. He was too well guarded. I suspect Selena did eventually plan to get her firstborn son back, but things didn't turn out like that."

"And what about me? Did nobody notice that my mother was pregnant again?"

"Your mother was skilled at magic and was often sent out alone, which no doubt helped. Morzan and Brom were both fighting over Saphira's egg, which resulted in the former's death and the latter never knew your mother was with child until after she died."

"How did she die?" Eragon asked.

"She died of illness not long after she delivered you in Carvahall. She managed to return to Morzan's castle, and there were healers present that tried to save her, but she was too weak by then and the healers not skilled enough. Morzan did figure out some months before that she was not where she was supposed to be, but he suspected Brom to have been responsible."

"And he was, in a way," Eragon said wryly.

"In a way, yes," Oromis smiled. "Brom was responsible for the death of many of Morzan's allies, so his assumption made sense. Brom only learned that Selena had gone missing after Morzan and he confronted each other. After their battle, he hid Saphira's egg where the Varden would eventually find it, and headed back towards Morzan's estate. By the time he arrived, however, she was already dead. Brom only had an inkling of your existence after he forced the healers to describe your mother's condition. He rode to the one place he knew where to look, your mother's home in Carvahall. There he found you in the care of your aunt and uncle."

"And why didn't he claim me as his own right then?" Eragon asked.

"I don't know. I can speculate, but I don't know. I know that the reason Brom went into hiding was that Galbatorix wanted him dead, badly. Anyone associated with him would also be in great danger. Perhaps he thought that you were better off if you didn't enter his world of Riders and magic."

"If that was his goal, he failed," Eragon pointed out.

"Yes," Oromis agreed. "Brom couldn't separate himself from you entirely, so after he briefly returned to the Varden to set up the agreement between the Varden and the elves concerning Saphira's egg and her Rider's training, and a trip Ellesméra where he told me what I am now telling you, he returned to Carvahal."

"And if he hadn't, Arya might never have sent the egg towards Carvahall and all this might never have happened," Eragon finished.

"Perhaps," Oromis agreed again. "But I doubt you regret becoming a Rider, even with all the trials and losses you suffered."

Eragon was quiet for some time, and Helena was loathed to break the silence, and afraid of expressing any sort of thoughts on the matter. Eragon's opinion was what counted here, not hers. To Helena, this revelation, while interesting, didn't change anything. She tried hard to not consider anyone's lineage anything important. She hadn't thought less of Eragon because he was Morzan's son, and she didn't think more of him that he was Brom's son. Eragon would care though, which was why she was forced to care

"Were my parents married?" Eragon asked.

Yet another thing Helena wouldn't care about if it wasn't for the value Eragon placed on it. And because of the silly belief that bastards were somehow of lesser worth that the human of this world seemed to hold, which might be a problem for Eragon if people found out he was one. Alright, a small amount of people in her world also still believed such a thing, but they were wrong.

"I know why you ask, Eragon, and I do not know if my answer will satisfy you. Nobody ever joined their hands in marriage, but by their actions they proved they loved each other. Both of them risked their lives for the other, and for you. That is the best I can give you."

It was clear from the dazed look in Eragon's eyes that he didn't know what to think. "I would like some time alone with Saphira, if that's alright?"

"Take what time you need; I hadn't planned any specific lesson for today beyond getting a feel your education up to this point, and you need to work through this." And with that, Eragon left, leaving Helena alone with Oromis.

During the story, Eragon hadn't been able to stop questioning, despite Oromis' saying he shouldn't, so half of his dinner still lay untouched. Helena lifted a finger and started to vanish the leftovers and magically clean the table.

"Now that we are alone, perhaps you can tell me a bit about your history." It was worded like a question, but spoken like a command.

With a shrug, Helena did exactly that.

Contrary to when she told the story to Eragon, here Helena felt less inclined to make it personal and instead stuck to the facts. Oromis didn't seem to allow her to remain detached, however, and constantly asked her about her opinions and ideas about everything that happened. She wouldn't mind it so much if she didn't get the feeling that the elf was just looking for any of her thoughts to criticise. Even though he never actually did that, the feeling of being judged didn't go away.

"I have a question about the magic of your people," Oromis said after Helena finished her tale. It had taken half the afternoon, and Eragon still hadn't returned.

Helena smiled. "You have just _a_ question, ebrithil?"

"Oh, I have plenty, but this I feel is the most pressing. There seems to a be a power difference between several wizards and witches, even disregarding the skill with which you use your spells, is that correct." Helena nodded again. "Do you know what determines that power?"

"Nobody is certain," Helena admitted. "But I think it has something to do with your personality. Your will has a big effect, as does your self-confidence and the strength of your convictions."

Oromis frowned. "Self-confidence and convictions?"

"Well, yes, partly. Merope Gaunt lost her magic because she lost her will to live, and I can't think of a single powerful witch or wizard that didn't have some strong driving convictions behind them."

"A direct correlation between convictions and power," Oromis repeated to himself, staring out the window for a moment before turning back to her. "Is this Voldemort character a rare occurrence? Or are their more dark lords in your world's history?"

"There are more," Helena admitted. "About one every century maybe. Though Voldemort was the worst one in a long time."

"Quite a lot, considering your small numbers, but I can't say I am surprised. If power is directly related to confidence and convictions, then it would reward the extreme versions of those nominal virtues; overconfidence and fanaticism." Oromis next words were too casual to be real. "How strong are you compared to others of your age?"

Helena sighed. "I get it. You think I'm overconfident."

"Maybe. I think you're detriment, and that can be either good or bad," Oromis repeated. "And that wasn't what I was thinking. You see, in order to teach both you and Eragon wisdom and how to become more logical in your thinking, I need you both to question everything you believe. My worry is that by getting you to question yourself I would somehow cripple your powers."

"I can't imagine that happening," Helena said slowly. "I have several thing to live for, so even if I start doubting some things, I doubt what happened to Merope Gaunt could happen to me. Such extreme cases only happen when like. . . you would be so hopeless and lethargic that you wouldn't have the will to eat or something."

"That is a relief, because I can't afford not to teach you."

"I know I am not perfect." _Though I am damn site more progressive than ninety-nine percent of the people here._ "And I actually want to improve, so if I am wrong about some things, then tell me."

"It's not that simple Helena. If I search for them, I can probably find several things that you and I disagree on, but if I just mention them and say you are wrong than you wouldn't, and shouldn't, believe me. As I mentioned, it is the way you reason that's the problem, not necessarily the conclusions you come to."

"Arya said that I think with my heart," Helena said morosely. "Are you saying that's not good enough?"

"I am afraid that it is not," Oromis shook his head and looked sympathetic. "Take those blood-purists from your world, or any other belief that you find reprehensible. Those wizards that supported it were probably just as convinced as you are and doing what they felt is right. If following your heart is all it would take for you to be right, then the very concept of right and wrong ceases to have meaning."

"So do I need to prove that Voldemort wanting everyone without magic to be slaves was, in fact, not a nice thing to do," Helena said with a note of incredulity.

"You are using 'nice' and 'right' interchangeably," Oromis noted. "Be careful of your words. Nice and right are not always the same. But no, I don't need you to prove that standing up to Voldemort was the right thing to do. I need you to look within yourself and find the values that drive you to see right from wrong. I need you to stop thinking in terms of what is right, and instead why something is right."

"When do we start?" Helena asked.

"Soon. For now I wish to revisit your decision to share the Ancient Language. Normally I would try to get you think more on it on your own, but considering this is a matter of some urgency, I will just give you the reasons why the old order did what it did."

"Okay," Helena gave a small nod.

"What do you consider the most powerful attribute of the Ancient Language?"

 _Is this his version of being straightforward?_ "I once saw Brom kill about a dozen soldiers with nothing more than a whisper."

"You don't need magic to kill people."

"No, but Brom couldn't kill so many people without magic. At most he could have taken two of them before being overwhelmed."

"And with magic he would have been able to kill twelve or more instead of two before being overwhelmed by people who were warded against such tactics. A significant difference, true, but the result would have been the same," Oromis sighed. "I will give a hint. The most dangerous use of the Ancient Langue is something that anybody that knows it can use, regardless of whether he or she can actually cast spells."

Helena blinked. _Which property of the Ancient Language is relevant to someone that can't do magic?_ There was only one she knew off. "You can't lie in the Ancient Language," Helena said slowly, hesitantly.

"Yes, which means. . .?" Oromis prompted further.

Helena thought back and it didn't take her long before finding the right answer. "The ability to bind people with oaths!"

"Exactly," Oromis said with feeling. "Orik is no magician, yet by swearing in the world of power to not reveal my existence his actions are now limited. And there is no limit to how many oaths one can swear. Now try to imagine how introducing such a mechanic into human society as it currently stands or stood in the past would change it."

Helena's brain was already heading towards that direction the second she gave her last answer. From everything she had read and heard, the human monarchs before Galbatorix weren't ideal to put it mildly. They gave the impression of only being decent because the Rider order was looking over their shoulder. Despite Helena's more modern sensibilities, she didn't have any strong negative feelings for monarchies, or great positive feelings for democracies. She still preferred the latter over the former, but a monarch was fine in her mind so long as it was a good monarch. If your monarch was bad enough, they should have enough enemies that you could overthrow them. But if any king could have all their vassals swear their loyalty to him in words of power. . .

"If the Ancient Language can do that, then why doesn't Galbatorix just have everyone swear their loyalty to him in the Ancients Language?"

"He does actually force magic users to swear to him, as well as his some of his personal servants. The Ra'zac for example did swear to him in this manner. And I know Selena was sworn to Morzan."

"Then how was she able to betray him?"

"It is not a completely fool proof method. Any oath one makes is tied to the identity, or true name, of the one making the oath, even if that true name is unknown. If a person's true name changes, then the oath weakens. Still, if the oath is repeated periodically, then it is a perfect way to keep slaves. As for why Morzan didn't do that, I don't know. I suspect it was arrogance, or an oversight due to his deteriorating mental state after his dragon lost its name. Or maybe he simply trusted her. As for why Galbatorix doesn't use it even more often, I don't know. Perhaps he too wants to keep knowledge of the Ancient Language a secret."

Still, this was something she hadn't considered before. When looking at the world of Alagaesia, the humans specifically, she hoped that it would evolve beyond what it was now. Giving any authority such a strong ability to enforce its rule could trap it into stagnation.

"I am beginning to regret my decision," Helena said heavily.

"Then let's do our best to correct it," Oromis said.

A part of her was very hesitant and wanted to try and continue to argue her point, but she was so uncertain at this point that she didn't dare argue. "Do you have some way to contact Trianna?"

"I have a way for _you_ to contact Trianna," Oromis said. "Just like I was able to track you by following you with my spirit, you can mentally communicate with anyone from almost any location."

"I have never tried to contact someone from this far away," Helena said.

"I will help," Oromis said. "I know where she is and I can guide you to her. The reason that I haven't contacted her myself is that magicians are rightfully concerned with unknown minds touching them without warning."

"But Trianna would recognise me," Helena finished. They had spent several hours mentally sparring, so the sorceress hopefully wouldn't panic at her touch."

"Just so," Oromis nodded. "Close your eyes, and let your spirit roam free."

Helena did so and briefly allowed the sounds of the forest to flow through her, before letting her mind out to sense her immediate surroundings. As usual, the feeling of openness was dizzying. In this state she could clearly tell Gordic's location even more so than usual. Oromis too, sitting right in front of her, was clearly 'visible' to her. Beyond that though, there was just a confusing mix of information that she couldn't really interpret. She tried to see if she could sense Eragon nearby, but she couldn't really search without ' _moving'_ , and she was still 'standing at attention' for Oromis.

All these terms like visible, moving, and standings weren't really accurate, but there were no better words.

Oromis' presence flowed to her like a dense golden mist and brushed against her. _'Try to anchor yourself to me. Do not be afraid of touching my mind; you won't see anything I don't want you to.'_

Helena tried to focus on the glow that represented Oromis, and as soon as she did, he began to move away, slowly at first. The smothering feeling of openness grew as she moved farther away from her body. Faster. She would have still have been willing to travel this far on her own, but only because Godric was like a beacon guiding her way back home. Faster. At this point she could no longer communicate with Godric and even though she could probably still find her way back, she would never have dared this alone. She had to ignore her instincts that were screaming at her not to go this far away from Godric or her own body. Faster. Before, Helena had always been able to get a vague sense of her own body. Now she didn't even know whether her own body was still breathing. Faster. If the information she got from her surroundings was confusing while she was standing still, it was incompressible now. Like trying to read road signs in a foreign language while zipping along the streets in the _Knight Bus_. She had no idea how fast they were moving, only that they were continuously accelerating. The golden wind that represented Oromis always seemed to go just a little faster then she was, making keeping up with him a constant struggle.

They stopped. There was no sensation of slowing down or anything similar; they just stopped. If the laws of physics applied in this state, her body would have surely been crushed due to the g-force. As it was she didn't even feel dizzy, or at least not any more dizzy than when they had been moving. Never before had she strayed this far from Godric's presence and it wasn't a pleasant feeling, like the feeling of homesickness after being stuck with the Dursleys for a month, only worse.

'There she is,' Oromis directed her attention towards one of the many sources of light that represented intelligent minds. 'Do you want me to wait for you here?'

'Please.' She didn't like how vulnerable she sounded, but her current state of being was so alien and _wrong_ that she wanted someone here who knew what he was doing.

'Go,' he said, silently promising her without words that he would remain nearby.

Helena let her spirit brush against the one Oromis had indicated was Trianna, thinking that the sooner she finished here, the sooner she could return.

Despite trying to be as cautious as she could, Helena still felt Trianna's surprise like someone suddenly being grabbed from behind in a dark room. It briefly looked like the sorceress might strike her out of reflex before realization dawned on the slightly older woman. _'Lady Helena?'_

'It's me.'

'Aren't you supposed to be half a world away?'

'I am. Listen, I need to talk to you for a minute.'

 _'I am currently in a meeting with Nasuada. Give me a second to explain why I will be unresponsive.'_

'Fine, but please don't take too long,' Helena said and found herself pushed to the very outskirts of Trianna's mind. It wasn't that Trianna kept up an active defence while she was busy, but there was a tension to her that told her she wasn't welcome. It took about a minute for Helena to make contact again.

'Nasuada bids me to ask you if you arrived safely.' By her sassy tone it was clear that Trianna was a little miffed about playing messenger.

 _'Yes, Eragon and I arrived safely, and yes,_ _Islanzadí will help us against Galbatorix. But that's not important right now._ _' By the feelings she was sensing from her, Helena got the sense that Trianna's physical body had to be laughing_ _. 'Have taught the words of power to anyone else yet?'  
_ _  
Exasperation. 'I have selected a handful of magicians who I believe can be trusted and have started to instruct them. But no matter what you tell me, I am not going to just give away all that power without reservation.'_

'No, that's fine. I have changed my mind about that.' Or she had her mind changed, but meh, details. 'I don't want you to publish all that knowledge to the world anymore.'

'Oh,' Trianna sounded surprised. 'Well that is an unexpected surprise; you seemed so sure.'

'Yea well. . .' Helena trailed off, not knowing what to say. 'it happens.'

'Well, it does make things easier for me. I did feel guilty in not doing as you asked immediately. Before this, I was planning to reveal some of it to Nasuada so she could have guards that were absolutely loyal to her and her alone.'

Which was exactly the precedent that they didn't want this power used for. After a moment's consideration, Helena decided to share the reasons for why she had changed her mind.

'Well, yes, that was why I was hesitating,' Trianna said. 'Nasuada means well, but she clearly wants to be in charge. That's why I am hesitant to give her this tool, no matter the short term benefits.' That Trianna was able to foresee the danger, while Helena had completely overlooked it was yet another blow to her ego. 'It will make my job of protecting her harder though.'

'Are you working close together then?' Helena asked.

'Indeed," Trianna said proudly. "I know Nasuada already trusts me more than her father ever trusted the twins. . . which admittedly isn't a very high bar. I get the feeling she still wouldn't rely on me so much if it wasn't for how useful I am. The ungratefulness of it is grating, but you did ask me to help her however I can, so here I sit, at her table, wondering how I am going to keep her alive for the next few months.'

'Thank you. Please give her my greetings, and both of you stay safe.'

'I will, and our illustrious leader also wants to know if you can contact me regularly to give updates on your progress.'

'I don't think I will be doing that. Just tell her I arrived safely, and that I have a good feeling about our teachers.'

'Good luck,' Trianna said, and Helena withdrew from her mind.

'I am done,' she thought to Oromis who as promised stayed near her. 'Can we go back now.'

'No matter how far apart your mind is from your body, they are inexorably connected, and will always gravitated towards one another" Oromis lectured. 'Try to relax and let your mind wander as it wants.'

Helena hesitated. Oromis was essentially telling to do the very thing she was afraid would lead to her mind getting lost in ether. If she had a body, she would have taken a very long breath to steady herself. As it was, she couldn't even do that. She tried to relax, something that was both easy and disturbing to do, cut off from her physical senses as she was. Helena thought this might be what dying peacefully in your sleep would feel like, drifting away into nothingness.

Then she opened her eyes to look at Oromis's small house, feeling a sense of incredible vertigo.

"How are you feeling?" Oromis asked. "Many find it disturbing the first time they send out their minds that far."

"I'll be alright, but I will need to do that a few more times before I'm comfortable with it." _If I ever am_

Oromis looked pleased. "You were clearly afraid, but you are still willing to proceed with your training. Bravery is indeed one of your virtues." Helena smiled awkwardly at the compliment. "What did Trianna say?"

"I told her that I didn't want her to share the Ancient Language anymore. She had only started teaching it to magician's she trusted before then. I guess she had more sense than me."

"A friend would say that you are being too hard on yourself," Oromis said, not unkindly. "I will say that being critical of yourself is one of the most important qualities powerful ageless beings like us can possibly have. You need not be ashamed," He looked at the door behind her. "I think Eragon is about ready to re-join us."

Sure enough, ten second later, the door opened and there was Eragon. Helena carefully studied his face, specifically looking for any sign of tears, but he looked fine. "I am sorry I took so long. Brom shared some of his secrets with Saphira, along with a memory."

"That's alright," Oromis said and motioned. "Please take your seat again."

As Eragon moved his char back, he nodded at her. "Sorry for leaving you like that. Its seem like I am never done with my personal issues."

Helena leaned back slightly and looked at him, bewildered. "You know I never thought that."

"That doesn't mean it isn't true," Eragon breathed in deeply and looked at Oromis. "I am ready to start my training without any further interruptions."

"Very well." He stood up and collected two identical large tomes from one of the closets. "These are two complete dictionaries of the Ancient Language, complete with translations in common, with a grammar guide at the end. They are worth entire kingdoms in wealth."

"You want us to memories an entire dictionary?" Helena asked, trying hard not to sound incredulous. They did say they would study harder than anyone before them, so Oromis might very well expect this of them.

"Simply memorising a list of words is a poor way to learn a language," Oromis said, and continued speaking in the Ancient Language, speaking slowly so they could easier understand him. " _From this point, we will only speak in this language._ _If you don't know a word, look it up, or ask someone. The only way to truly learn a language is to speak it and listen to it. Only when you fear you might otherwise make an oath, refrain, and speak normal."_

Helena trusted that that was indeed the best way to learn. That didn't mean this wasn't going to suck. _"I will try,"_ she responded.

Eragon opened his mouth as if to speak, but paused. _"If I said: 'I will do my best master', would that force me to do nothing but study until I mastered this?"_

 _"And excellent question,"_ Oromis smiled again. _"You can't lie in this language, and you would choke on your words if you tried. But would you have been unable to say those words, or would it have bound you with an oath? In this case, since you are talking about your future actions and actually would be sincere, it would be an oath. But it would not necessarily force you to do nothing but study since that would overwork you, which wouldn't be your 'best'. Considering perfection is an ideal that can be strived for but never reached, the oath would still give you some room for freedom."_  
 _  
_"Wait hold on," Helena said, forgoing the ancient language. "I couldn't follow all that." Oromis repeated his answer, and gave translations when needed.

 _I wonder if Eragon will insist we talk in elvish when we are alone,_ Helena thought tiredly. _I shouldn't so annoyed by that. If he doesn't insist on it, I should. Even though I still suck at this._ Since she couldn't use the magic of this world yet, she hadn't spent as much time trying to learn the words as she probably should have.

Oromis gathered another book from another shelf, though this book was tiny in comparison. _"This is a book of logic as it relates to arguments and debates. It is written in common, so reading it shouldn't be a problem. By tomorrow I want you to have read and studied it, and as an exercise, I want you to write a summary of it in the Ancient Language, and a version in common for comparison,"_ he said as he collected yet another book. _"The Dwarvish script you use is inadequate for this purpose. This book explain the rules for Liduen Kvaedhíthe, the script we will use for writing the Ancient Language. It will be difficult at first, but it is a phonetic script, so once you know the rules, it should go more smoothly."_

Again, the words were too difficult for her, and Helena needed Oromis to translate his own words. Once he did, Helena exchanged worried looks with Eragon. _"Ebrithil,"_ Eragon said carefully. _"We will do our best, but we can't learn all that in one evening."_

"I don't except mastery in such a short time, but you will make an attempt to make the summary I asked of you. If not, make a summary of everything you managed to learn."

Oromis said sternly. _"You said you would work harder than any student I had before; here is your first chance to show what your 'best' is like. You may work together in this. In fact, you might have to if you hope to finish anything by tomorrow."_

It seems he wasn't kidding when he said this would be hard.

The rest of the day continued with Oromis quizzing them again on what knowledge they already possessed. Only this time he did so in elvish, and both Helena and Eragon were required to so as well. Or try to anyway. Eragon frequently struggled with it, but Helena had it even worse. It got so bad that it became not just an intellectual struggle, but an emotional one. Dark thoughts of _'I can't do this', 'this is too much'_ and _'this is pointless; I'll never get this in a month'_ floated around in her head like rainy clouds. By the time Oromis was done, the lump in her throat had been threatening to make speaking her answers even more difficult.

 _Haven't had this difficulty in a long time._ Occasionally her desire to do well combined with a seemingly impossible task could overwhelm her. During Snape's first potion lesson, a lesson that she had been looking forward to ever since learning her mother was good at it, she had failed to hold back her emotions. To Snape's great delight. Ron's easy-going nature was an inspiration to both her, and later, Hermione. Surprisingly, she never had this difficulty when the stakes became high enough.

They returned outside to find the dragons waiting for them

"Return here an hour after sunrise,"

Glaedr also spoke elvish, but since this was mental-speak, the meaning was clear enough.

 _"And bring the saddle Brom made for you,"_ Oromis continued. Helena was glad that Eragon asked what the elvish word for 'saddle' was so she didn't need to. _"I advise you to take maybe a small hour for yourself after you return before starting on your assignment. Lastly, don't stay up too late. I'd prefer you fail the assignment rather than you being unable to keep your eyes open tomorrow. Good luck._

And with that, they were allowed to leave.

'Are you okay? I sensed a lot of distress from you?' Godric asked as they were flying back.

'Just feeling the pressure,' she answered. 'I am surprised you didn't ask that question sooner. You must have sensed my emotions at the time,' she tried not sound accusatory, but she wasn't sure she succeeded. Godric had made a habit of sharing his strength with her during difficult moments, and she had missed his presence during those last hours.

'Ebrithil Glaedr explained the situation to me at the time,' Godric said. 'He said that Oromis would push you both hard, and that I shouldn't interrupt if I cared about your evolution.' A pause. 'I am sorry. I hope you didn't feel abandoned.'

'Nothing quite so bad.' Just a little disappointed. 'I take it you like Glaedr? You wouldn't heed his words otherwise.'

'He is my elder and has seen much,' Godric said. 'If you were a child alone in the world amidst nothing but Goblins, wouldn't you be excited to meat an adult human?'

'Good point,' she dreaded what she had to ask next. 'Do you think we should speak elvish to each other.'

'No.' Godric answer was immediate and firm. 'Let our bond be a safe haven for your troubles.'

'Thanks,' came her relieved response. 'I wonder how much time I'll get to figure out my true name amidst all the other work Oromis expects me to do.'

A sense of unease came from Godric. 'I think that I could easily guess your true name if I was fluid in the Ancient Language. I have a good idea at least.'

'Will you help me?'

'Yes. Though Oromis would probably think that you will benefit more if you figure it out on your own. I on the other hand am of the opinion that you might also benefit from being able to defend yourself from magicians as fast as possible. Ask and I will give you a hint, or I'll even find the answer myself for you.'

When she had asked, she had hoped Godric would help her. But with him being this forthcoming, a part of her wanted to figure it out for herself. She would give herself a short time to figure it out without help.

Godric and Saphira made use of the landing above their treehouse to drop off their Riders, and then went off to explore more. They invited their humans along, but Eragon was eager to try out the bath that Helena had promised to explain to him. Helena wanted to lie on her bed and do absolutely bugger all.

There was something she needed to bring up first. "Are you okay? With Brom being your father I mean." They stood in the bathroom, and she had just explained how it worked. Now they waited until the tub filled itself.

"It's almost funny," Eragon said, though his expression suggested otherwise. "I had just about made my peace with being Morzan's son, and then I learn that I am not."

"But this is better right?"

"Of course it is," Eragon said immediately. "Brom was a great man, and I am proud of him. I suppose with your views on inheritance. . ."

"Alright, stop," Helena scowled at him. "I am proud of my parents as well. I just don't think that however good they were says anything good or bad about me. Especially since they weren't the ones who raised me."

"Sorry," Eragon said. "But yea, it is good to know my father was good man. And that he cared, even though I wish he could have told me sooner."

And that was that. Helena left to answer the sweet call of her bed so that Eragon could undress himself.

By the time Eragon came to get her about half an hour later, she was so close to sleeping that her eyelids felt like they weighed a pound each.

Helena summoned the smaller book that they had deposited in the living room to her hand. "Geminio," she just like that she was holding two identical books. "Catch," she said as she tossed one copy at Eragon who snatched it out of the air.

"I think I might be able to skim the book in four hours. But if I have to make a summary. . ." he trailed off.

"To make a decent summary you need to have a decent understanding of the material. Skimming the book isn't enough, but we will have to make due" Helena said with a sigh. She opened the book and quickly found a table of contends. Her gaze quickly landed on a subsection of 'Logical inconsistencies' listed as 'Examples of logical inconsistencies in common human values'. She showed it to him. "I know that to finish this assignment we shouldn't linger on anything for too long, but I am curious about that one."

"Well, whatever we decide, we should start immediately." Eragon snapped open his book to the same table of contend. "But honestly. I don't think we should try to learn everything in this in one day. Let's read the introduction, whatever seems most relevant to us, and then make a summary of what we learned." Eragon switched languages. _"And we should try to practice this."_

Helena nodded and made herself comfortable on her bed. She put her finger at the edge of the current page, bent the book, and allowed the pages to blur past her finger until she reached the chapter she wanted. The movement of the papers blasted her nose with the pleasant aroma of old books.

 _To judge any idea or belief as right or wrong requires right and wrong to be clearly defined. Because of the multitudes of possible way of judging right and wrong, it is difficult to come to any single one conclusion. As such, that is not the aim of this section. Instead we would like point out that the reasons certain behaviours are judged 'wrong' when applied universally, lead to problematic conclusions._

Example: Incest is wrong because it leads to an increased chance of children with birth defects. Yet when a person with physical or mental disorder breeds, there is also a high chance of those same disorders appearing. While the first is often considered wrong, most are hesitant to judge the second wrong for the same reasons. This is a good example of a logical inconsistency. When such an inconsistency is spotted, and one cares about being consistent, there are a couple of solutions.

-One can judge that it is not wrong to have children with defects, and therefor incest is not wrong, or wrong for a different reason.  
-One can judge that it is wrong for a person with disabilities to have children.

While the author of this book has an opinion about which solution is preferable, it is not the aim of this text to express the authors own beliefs. . .

Helena stopped reading for a moment to consider. She did think incest was wrong, but she didn't think the reason for it was a chance of unhealthy children. She tried to think of the reason why she did find it disgusting. Well, it had resulted in Voldemort through the Gaunts and it had resulted in the whole pureblood nonsense. . . No, it was the other way around. Because of the pureblood nonsense there was some measure of incest in the magical world. Regardless there was a connection between the two, which was where most of her distaste came from.

At least that was her best guess as to the reason.

 _"Some things are just wrong,"_ Helena spoke in the language of truth. Eragon looked up at her. _"Are we still allowed to think that?"_

"I don't know, but I agree with it,"

Eragon said, also in elvish.

 _"Oromis wants us to question,"_ Helena said and decided that the next part was still too difficult say for her in a foreign tongue. "He wants us to examine and question what we know. But hurting an innocent person is just wrong. If you question even that, and decide that it isn't, you'll become a monster. But I can't think of a logical reason why it would be wrong, so there has to be more to morality than logic."

Eragon chuckled humorously and held up his copy of the book and read out loud. "When one decides that something is impossible because they can't think of how something could happen, this is known as an argument from incredulity." Eragon looked at her and also forwent elvish. "This is a logical fallacy I just read about. Just because we can't think of a logical reason, that doesn't mean there isn't one." He exhaled loudly. "I for one have no trouble imagining that many things I know may be false. So many things have already proven to be." A shrug. "What's one more earth-shaking revelation at this point." He went back to reading.

Helena made a thissing noise with her tongue. She wasn't sure she could accept such a position of doubt on this topic. Morality was one of those things she just _had_ to get right.

The next thing she encountered was something called 'the sunken cost fallacy'.

 _When an action or object has cost one dearly, one gives it subjective value to justify the cost. An obvious and relatively harmless example is the lady who brags how much her clothing costs while logic would dictate that money spend relative to quality is what merits praise.  
As a more consequential example: A general that keeps sending soldiers to die because otherwise all the previous sacrifices become meaningless._

Helena thought back to the fake Slytherin's Locket she and Dumbeldore had retrieved at the end of her sixth year at Hogwarts. She had it given to Kreacher and eventually buried it with him after his death. She hadn't thought about it in a long time, but it was the first example she could think of. Anything but Regulus's message hidden within it had been completely worthless. Like the book said, she had kept it because of how much it had cost to retrieve. Was the book suggesting that keeping it was foolish? It was an easy way to read the text as a big condemnation against sentimentality. Helena also still kept the shattered fragments of her first broomstick, but she wasn't sure that was a good example of this 'sunken cost fallacy', though it was a purely sentimental keepsake. Was that wrong too?

Perhaps she shouldn't have skipped the book's introductory chapters? She flipped the pages back towards the beginning.

 _The hardest part about making any logical judgments – especially where morality or politics is concerned – is to define the goal. If the ultimate goal is happiness, whether for yourself or others, then inventing a spell to force one's emotional disposition into a permanent state of bliss, would be an act of great nobility._

Helena thought of the Imperious curse and the feelings it induced in its victims.

 _If the ultimate goal is freedom, than it is perfectly logical to wage war against any form of government and create anarchy. If the ultimate goal is safety, than locking as many people into a prison would, again, make total sense._

The ultimate goal cannot be pinned down to a single virtue. Everybody needs to decide for themselves how much they value things like happiness, freedom, and safety. Once that is done, you can make logical judgments based on how those factors are affected.

 _So what is my ultimate goal?,_ Helena wondered to herself. Why had she fought Voldemort and his Death-Eaters? The most obvious reason was survival, but she refused to accept that as the main reason. There was a prophecy about her because of who she was, not the other way around. A lot of her friends were targeted by Voldemort and his minions, but that wasn't it either. Even if, Merlin forbid, she had been sorted into Slytherin, she wouldn't have chosen a different side. _The Death Eaters believed they were superior due to their blood, and therefore deserved to do whatever they wanted with those who were lesser. It wasn't fair._ Fairness and Justice. . . Virtues that mattered as much to her as happiness, freedom, and safety. Considering her chosen lifestyle, safety was probably the one that mattered the least to her, at least for her personally. For others she did want safety.

She should really be focusing on reading as many chapters as she could, instead of reminiscing for minutes on every single one, but she couldn't help it. Helena had the sneaking suspicious that this was somehow important in figuring out her true name. How could it not be? With how much importance she placed in her own morals.

 _A Hasty Generalization is a conclusion that is based on insufficient or biased evidence._

One of the reasons why this logical fallacy is used so often is that reaching an unassailable truth often isn't a speaker's goal. When the goal of an argument is convincing others of your opinion, or make statements that are true more often than not, using a Hasty Generalization may, ironically, be logical. Often simple expediency or abbreviation may also play a role.

The following is a harmless example: 'There are no clouds this morning, thus it will not rain today.' This conclusion is based on the many days without rain the speaker has witnessed where there were no clouds in the morning. Considering that storm clouds generally move between 50 and 60 km per hour, it is obviously possible that they arrive later in the day. When pressed, the speaker will usually alter his statement to some variance of, 'there are no clouds this morning, thus it is less likely that it will rain today than compared to if there were clouds this morning'.

As mentioned, this is a harmless example of a Hasty Generalization.

 _A more controversial example is the following. 'The last five foreigners who visited our city tried to rob us, therefore all foreigners are thieves.  
There are several interesting problems with this statement that can be examined._

The first with this is that five people isn't a very large sample group. In a population where 90% of the people have black hair, there is a 59% chance that a random selection of five people will yield five black haired people. Even in a population where 40% of people have black hair, there is still a 1% chance of having 5 black haired people randomly selected. Of course, conclusions based on a sample group can never offer absolutes like that, yet it is still a valuable tool. This is not an introductory course on statistics, however, so we will not go deeper into it here. _  
_  
The book gave a list of recommended titles and authors for those who wished to learn more.

The second problem is that the speaker may have had an agenda and the sample group wasn't randomly selected. If ten thousand people have visited the city, it is likely that at some point five 'bad' people visit in succession. It is easy to find data to support nearly every theory, but that is not how good research is done.

The third problem is that the speaker uses the sample group of 'foreigners who visit the city' to make statements about 'all foreigners'. The people who visit a specific city have more in common than the totality of all people everywhere. Here is a clearer illustration: 'the majority of foreigners who visit our city own a horse, therefore the majority of foreigners own horses.' A horse makes it easier for people to travel, therefor it is more likely that they visit the city.

The fourth problem isn't so much a logical problem as it is a moral one. Even if, through completely logically sound reasons, one proves that at least a significant portions of foreigners who visit this imaginary city are thieves, it needs to considered in what way the knowledge could be acted upon. The ideal of giving all people the same chances can be an appealing one, but it wars with practical considerations. Prejudice, when based on actual data and research, isn't easy dismissed.

The book, again, gave several recommendations for those that wanted to delve deeper into this.

Helena paused again. _Prejudice was bad and all should be given the same chances._ That was the ideal she held to. Even her own biases, like towards the house of Slytherin, she considered flaws in her character that she needed to watch out for. But the book made sense. Some stereotypes were there for a reason. But to acknowledge this and still believe in treating everyone fairly. . .

 _This,_ Helena thought, _is the difference between someone who is naïve and an idealist. The one who is naïve sees the world through rose tinted glasses, while the idealist acknowledges all the ugliness in the world, yet still tries to hold on to ideals, even over practical considerations._

If she didn't have other homework, she would look up the titles the book recommended to delve more into these moral dilemmas. It seemed like something she should be aware off. Hell, she actually _wanted_ to learn more about it, and she had never had Hermione-like enthusiasm for studying.

These thoughts about fairness and what is right, and how that mattered to her, made her think that they must somehow play a part in her true name. _Maybe knowing the elvish words for these will give me a hint?_ Helena thought. She summoned the dictionary to her hand and went to search for the words such as 'justice', 'fairness', 'idealism', and 'morality'. The first two words translated to 'Jifnar' and 'rétter'. For idealism she couldn't find any fitting translation. Morality took a while to find, but she eventually found 'Varjara,' to be the closest match, though it meant 'to place the greatest personal value in something'.

Helena had hoped for some flash of insight once she knew those words, but nothing was coming.

 _"Are you beginning on the summary?"_ Eragon asked in elvish. Just like her, he was lying comfortably on his bed with his copy of the book.

" _I am looking up some words that might be important,"_ Helena answered, also in elvish though she had to pause twice to remember the word for 'words' and 'important'. _"This book,"_ Helena held up the small book they had been told to read. _"It is almost a summary already."_

"Yea,"

Eragon scowled. _"I don't know how to shorten it. Perhaps Oromis just want us to translate the book?"_

"Possibly. Perhaps just leave the. . ."

She zipped through the pages of the dictionary to find the right words for what she wanted to say. _"Examples. And write down all the definitions?"_

"Agreed."

And so they started. Just like Oromis instructed, they first planned to write the summary in English and then translate it into a foreign tongue and script.

And so they got to work. Writing the English version was, of course, easy. The most interesting part was that Eragon had to stop Helena from turning the summary into an opinion piece. After that, they worked together to find the translation for the words they didn't know. That wasn't that hard either. What was hard, however, was learning a whole new phonetic script. Eragon was very good at pronouncing the words, Brom had seen to that, and Helena just had plain more experience with writing. She wasn't great at it, but Eragon had almost no formal education to speak off. The final version of their work had to be, by mutual agreement, written in Helena's stereotypical female handwriting.

When they were done, so was the rest of the day. Helena feared they had to at least look their work over one more time before they could turn it in, because you always overlooked some mistakes. Even Hermione made mistakes in the first drafts of her works – though the bushy haired girl had to glue her two friends to their chairs and all but rub their faces into those drafts of her before they believed her anything but supernaturally gifted. Helena got the impression that while Hermione initially enjoyed her friends believe she could do everything, driving home the message that all good things required time and effort was more important.

But that was something she'd deal with in the morning. Both Riders thought that they needed, and deserved, a moment to unwind after this, and so they went to the roof of their tree house. Helena had made herself comfortable in Eragon's lap while he rested his head on her shoulders and had his arms wrapped around her middle. As they looked out over the world below, conversation turned to everything that they learned. Or in the case of Eragon, what he learned about his lover.

"Is that why you are so determined not to see the Urgals as monsters? This idea that everybody should be treated equally, or at least given the same chances?" Eragon asked, thankfully in English. Helena wanted to relax and you couldn't do that if you forced yourself into a foreign tongue that had some special 'don't-do-thats' attached to it.

"Well, I am sure that's part of it," Helena answered. "I know they are at least capable of caring about each other."

"I know that," Eragon answered, and he didn't even sound that reluctant anymore as he admitted it. "But they are still monsters to us. I know – and you know – that they wouldn't show us any mercy."

"You know what my response to that is."

"Are we better than them or not?" Eragon aped Helena's words with a chuckle. "It's almost like a riddle." Helena prompted him to continue with a lazy hum. "If we show mercy and they don't, like we ended up doing, than they are the monsters and we the hero. Thus we are justified in killing them, but can't act on it. But if we didn't show mercy, it would means we can't call ourselves the hero's anymore, but we would have been free to act. What is a man to do in this situation?"

Helena thought about it, but couldn't think of anything clever to say.

"You know, back in Carvahall, we always distrusted outsiders. Brom had to stay for a long a long time before he was ever considered one of us, and even then, you could argue about whether he ever succeeded."

"You could also argue whether he wanted to succeed," Helena pointed out. "He didn't seem like a man who would care what the masses thought of him."

"My point is," Eragon continued, "We didn't like outsiders that much. Also, I don't think we were wrong to do so."

That caught her attention and she turned her neck so they faced each other. "How so?"

"There were no beggars in Carvahall," Eragon said suddenly.

"And that's connected somehow?" If it was, Helena couldn't see how.

"I didn't see them in any of the smaller villages we visited either. But I did see them in placed like Tierm, Dras-Leona, and even Farthen Dur had some unfortunates."

"And you think this lack of beggars is somehow due to your distrust of outsiders?"

"Correlation is not causation," Eragon repeated one of the lessons that made it into their summary. "But there is something there. In those small villages, everybody knew everyone. We were connected in a way the folks of the city never were. We could trust our neighbours. I think I could give you the names of almost everybody in Carvahall. My uncle never wanted to rely on the charity of others, to the point of going hungry one difficult winter, but we knew that if we were desperate enough, we wouldn't starve."

While that explained the lack of beggars, Helena still didn't see how this was connected to not trusting strangers.

"I am not sure where I am going with this," Eragon admitted. "But you can't treat everybody the same, or give them the same chances. You trust your family before anything else. They are worth more than any stranger. After that, you look to your friends and neighbours. Maybe you can also trust those that are at least somewhat similar to you. Eventually, I guess…. you just run out of trust?" Eragon finished uncertainly. "Ironically, it is may be because we assumed that those visited Carvahall were at least somewhat like us, that we distrusted them. We all have people we trust. People who we would protect and support over others. If one villager cheated another, everyone would know in a fortnight, not to mention the difficulty in cheating someone you know. Outsiders wouldn't have any reason to treat us fairly beyond being allowed to return to our out-of-the-way backwater village. Is it any wonder we distrusted outsiders?"

Helena still didn't really understand where he was going. "Such close groups may help one another, but they also sow division. It creates as many problems as it solves."

Eragon sighed. "Well, this was all somehow supposed to lead to why it's unreasonable to treat everyone the same. Because we are not, and we all have those who are dearer to us than others."

"I know that," Helena said with exasperation, as if she would ever think otherwise. Thinking about another passage from the book they had to read. _'When arguing against an idea, it is tempting to twist the opposing idea into something that's easier to dismiss. This is often done by taking the opposing idea to extremes, or placing it into a context where it was never supposed to be.'_ "But everyone should at least be given a chance, right?"

"That sounds nice, but for the case of Urgals. How many times does one need to be bitten by a snake before you stop reaching out a hand towards it?"

Helena wondered if he picked the snake analogy specifically to play on her history.

"At least once," she said.

"You think nobody has ever tried to reason with Urgals before?" Eragon paused. "To be fair, I can't think of a specific example, but the Riders of old must have had dealings with them."

Helena gave a minute shrug. "Did they thought? I notice that there are no Urgal Riders. You think they would turn down such an offer like the dwarves did?"

The very concept of an Urgal Rider turned Eragon's expression sour. "I guess we can ask Oromis tomorrow."

Helena blew some hair out of her eyes. "We really are terrible at romantic conversations, aren't we?" That had been the original intention when they came up here. Or at least, that had been Helena's hope.

Eragon looked thoughtful. "These are the sort of conversations we should be having, as Riders. We did promise we wouldn't let this," he briefly pulled her body closer to his. "Interfere with our duties as Riders."

"True," Helena said. "What do you think about Oromis's warning regarding magical marriages."

"It makes sense," Eragon admitted easily. "But it hasn't changed my mind regarding my intentions towards you. I am still hoping to have some kind of ceremony declaring our union to the world."

Helena still wasn't sure how she felt about that. Eragon was the best partner she could ever hope for. She suspected that if she wouldn't marry Eragon, she plainly would never marry. Yet the thought of it continued to fill her with a sense of disquiet. She would never admit it to Eragon, but a part of her had been relieved when Oromis had given his warning on the subject.

Did she still need to be convinced by Eragon that he was a good match like he himself claimed? _We have only know each other for a short time,_ Helena reflected.

The sun had slipped below the horizon, but there was still too much scattered light for it to truly be called night.

Helena squirmed out of Eragon's grip and stood up. "Let's go. We need to wake up early if we want to have time to look over our work before we need to go to Oromis.

"It's still a little early, but I don't think I'll have any problems sleeping." Eragon rubbed a hand over his hair. "This day has been draining."

 _'Saphira and I will stay awake a little longer,'_ Godric told her. Helena could tell he was in a good mood.

 _'Please wake us up an hour before dawn if you can,'_ she asked. Since dragons were far less bothered about missing a few hours of sleep, this wouldn't be a problem.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

 _"Have you thought about your future career, Miss potter."_ McGonagall asked her. Umbridge sat in a chair behind her, staring evilly over McGonagall's shoulder at her.

"Well I did think about it, and I guess I want to be either an Auror, or a teacher here. Probably defence against the Dark Arts," she answered.

"To be a teacher here, you _should_ need," McGonagall glanced condescendingly at Umbridge. "A mastery in whatever you wish to teach." She sighed. "Though with that particular position, standards have fallen so low, we would honestly hire anyone."

Umbridge laughed. It sounded like toad was choking on an engorged fly. "Do you honestly think I would _ever_ hire Miss Potter?"

Helena grinned. "Do you think there is anyone better to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts than the one who defeated Voldemort?"

McGonagall nodded an agreement. "An excellent point Miss Potter. You're hired."

Helena stood dressed an elegant dress of Lilac, her hair done in a bun held together by magic, the very picture of grace. The classroom full and packed with eager young faces.

"More than the magic you learn here, you should be excited for why you learn it," she lectured. "The world is full of darkness. Whether it be something obvious like a Dementor or the darkness that comes out of our own hearts. Both will cause misery and strive unless we all stand up to it!"

The children were eating up the words from the Girl-Who-Live, most famous witch currently alive, and now their DADA teacher.

"Miss Potter," McGonagalll said in a tone that indicated she was in trouble. She was standing next to the wall, clipboard in hand, taking notes as Umbridge had once done for all the teachers. "Please focus on teaching the magic. That which we are actually paying you for. If this is what you wanted you should have gone into politics."

A deep sigh came from the opposite wall. "You should teach your student _how_ to think, instead of what you think they _should_ think," Oromis said, hands crossed, giving her a disappointed look. "You still have much to learn."

Seeing the old elf in a Hogwarts classroom was the straw of weirdness that broke the dream camel's back, and she slowly became aware of the blanket covering her and the soft cushion in which her face was buried.

 _Now I am even dreaming about lectures,_ Helena thought groggily. Godric was resting but not asleep so she got him to tell her it was about one and a half hours before sunrise and she had slept for about six hours. _Good enough._

She let a red light glow from her hand under the blanked. The muted light allowed her to orient herself and crawl out of the bed and tiptoe to the living room. Eragon had wanted to have an early morning as well, but he had had a harder day than her. No matter what he says, the revelation about Brom had to be emotionally taxing, so she'd give him some more time to sleep on it.

Helena wondered how their food would be delivered to them. Surely they didn't expect them to hunt for it themselves? _'What a disaster that would be right?'_ Godric snarked at her.

Ignoring her draconic partner, she explored what passed for the kitchen for anything that could pass for food storage. There was a fair amount, just nothing immediately edible. Just some spices like salt, pepper, and a bunch of other herbs that she didn't recognise, several bottles full of plant seeds, a filled waterskins, and a bottle of what she suspected was wine. The herbs were all labelled, but she didn't recognise the names.

 _'There are two baskets at the bottom of the tree,'_ Godric informed her. Helena opened and looked down at the trap door that past for the front door of their little home, and indeed there were.

Wordlessly, she summoned them one by one into her marked hand. The baskets were so expertly woven that Helena suspected they were watertight. One, she quickly discovered, was supposed to be their breakfast. A lot of fruit and no meat, but that was expected at this point.

The other basket contained more medicinal supplies like, soap, first aid bandages, some more herbs, and a letter addressed to her. It was written in elvish using the recently learned phonetic script, so it took her a while to decipher.

 _Helena._

As promised, I had these herbs delivered to you. You are supposed to take them regularly once a day at a time of your choosing. I recommend taking them either right after you wake up or right after you go to bed.  
It doesn't matter if you don't think they are needed due to your own magical solution. Both your body and magic have changed by your own admission, so an extra protection is warranted.  
Unless you can say for certain you won't have any sexual encounters for the duration of this war you WILL be taking these regularly. I know this might be a taboo subject among humans, and I regret any discomfort this causes you, but I would be remiss in my duties as a mentor if I didn't take these issues seriously.

\- Oromis

The herbs came accompanied by a set of instructional that indicated she was supposed to drink them like a tea. They were even in English to make sure she understood them.

As she prepared it for herself, deciding she might as well get on with it, she couldn't help but feel a flutter of nervousness in her gut. She was also very glad for the early hour and the privacy that came with it; she doubted she'd be able to look Eragon in the eye at this point. Knowing what this was for, even though she knew it was just a precaution, felt like she was taking one last shower before she and Eragon were going to share a bed. Like it was almost a given at this point and right around the corner. She hid the herbs in her magical pouch after she was done.

Lacking anything else to do, she started on her vegan breakfasts while giving their homework a cursorily look. Though she only checked the content through the English version. The translation part of the exercise – the part she suspected was the most important – was too difficult to tackle with anything but her full attention, and she preferred to wait until Eragon was up for that.

Which didn't take long. Helena had just enough time to wash her face and hair, and once again marvel at her developing exotic face in the mirror, before Eragon sleepily stumbled into the living room. _"Good morning,"_ Eragon said in elvish.

Helena managed to stop herself from looking up in exasperation at the reminder that they were going to have to communicate that way. _"Good–"_ she tried to repeat Eragon's greeting but choked on the second word. She snorted and continued in English. "I can't even say 'good morning' without being fully sincere." She took a moment, breathed, and reminded herself that all things considered, this was a 'good morning'. _"Good morning,"_ she tried again, successfully.

 _"I wonder if this is why elves great each other with '_ _may the stars watch over you'. Something abstract like that can't count as a lie,"_ Eragon said thoughtfully. _"We have a little more than an hour until we need to leave. Give me a few minutes to clean up and I'll be with you."_

Five minutes later, Helena and Eragon were hunched over the books again, the latter with a piece of toast in his mouth.

When the sun finally rose, signalling their time to leave, Helena and Eragon had spent around four out of the five hours they'd been conscious since Oromis dismissed them working on the assigned task. Regardless of how good or bad it was, Helena felt content that it was as good as they could make it given the timeframe. If they failed, it wouldn't be for a lack of trying. Helena even felt proud that she at least tried to communicate in elvish without Oromis looking over her shoulder. Hopefully, that would grow easier soon.

Oromis and Glaedr were waiting for them outside their house on Crags of Tel'naeír. When the two junior riders faced the old elf, an awkward silence ensued until Eragon put his finger to his lips and spoke the traditional greeting, Helena following quickly behind. ' _The one with the lowest social standing speaks first,'_ Helena remembered Arya's lesson.

After Oromis repeated the greeting, he looked over both their saddles. He asked them what they remembered of how Brom made them and with what. " _Brom always was resourceful,"_ he said with barest hint of a grin after Helena shared the story of how her own saddle was made. Helena couldn't refrain from puffing her cheeks in annoyance. It was obvious he found the idea of Helena being forced to work with dragon excrement a lot funnier than she did. _"These will serve when great speed is required, or when you expect your equipment to get damaged – these are easily replaced – but when comfort is allowed. . ."_ Oromis moved into the hut, motioning for both junior Riders to follow. Helena took the opportunity to clarify a few of the words she didn't immediately remember. Oromis, of course, spoke elvish. _"You should ask Godric if he knows a word before asking me. You two should be two minds working as one."_

'You hear that Godric,' Helena conveyed in half-joking tone. 'You need to help me remember my stuff.'

A mental snort was returned. 'So long as you don't use me as an excuse to slagger off. Not that you could. You are more advanced in this than me.'

Two saddles of obvious fine make laid on the floor, reminding Helena more off modern horseback riding than the utilitarian versions they currently used. Helena never had any problems with her current saddle, but that was due to a generous application of magic. Magic that needed to be reapplied often. Beyond any comfort though, this new saddle simply looked nicer. Still, she couldn't help but feel sad when she and Eragon replaced her old saddle with the new one. _Probably due to 'sunken cost fallacy',_ Helena thought wryly. She had gone through a lot to make the old one and it had some corresponding sentimental value. _It's not like I am throwing it away,_ Helena reminded herself.

 _"Godric and Saphira will go with Glaedr again, while Eragon and Helena will remain with me,"_ Oromis said. _"Be warned that at the end of the day Glaedr and I will quiz you all on what your partner has learned."_

'Follow me,'

Glaedr said and all the dragons left the clearing.

 _"This morning I will teach you the Rimgar, a series of stretches designed to train and maintain our flexibility. You saw some of it yesterday when I had you stretch. Though our bodies do not age, our muscles and joints do grow and entropy with use and disuse. The elf that does not exercise will become as_ _decrepit as any other old human._ "

 _"I don't think we are in danger of getting out of shape,"_ Eragon commented.

Oromis' lips twitched. _"No, but there are muscles you may not use as often as you should. Ideally you would have been doing these exercises since childhood. Children naturally grow less flexible as they age, but a lot of that can be overcome by regular exercise. Come and try to mimic my movements."_

It was as advertised nothing more than a series of stretching exercises, if more extensive than Helena was used to, though not as extensive as what Oromis had had them do had told them that they would be expected to do this by themselves tomorrow. Something about students needing to have the discipline to practice even if a teacher wasn't looking over their shoulder. After they were done, Eragon and Helena we're told to clean the sweat from their bodies while Oromis went to look over their assignment.

In the fifteen minutes Oromis had left them alone, he already seemed to have read the entire paper and made several notes on them.

 _"The summary was fine, though that was the easy part,"_ Oromis began to explain once they re-joined him at his table. _"But there are several mistakes in the translation. You either had the sounds of some of the words wrong, or didn't write them down correctly. To know which it is, I want you, Helena, to read the common version while Eragon reads the translation, so that I know what the intention was and where it went wrong"_

As they read, Oromis nodded, not in approval, but in realization. _"You forgot to study the grammar, instead of only the vocabulary. You simply assumed the same rules for common apply for the language of power. There are many similarities, true, but there are some crucial rules you must learn lest you make some critical mistake."_ Oromis explained and then repeated in English to make sure they understood.

As Oromis went over all the rules they mist, Eragon suddenly commented, occasionally pausing to search for the right translation in elvish. _"I have never needed all these rules before. Before this, my use of the language was very limited. The most I ever did with it was speak to Arya when she was. . . not awake, and when I. . . spoke words over a child."_ Eragon paused and continued in English. "I am sorry, I don't know the word for 'blessed'."

Oromis' face stiffened as if he a sensed a great danger nearby. "You blessed a child in the Ancient Language?" That he stopped their continuous Ancient Language lessons and spoke English would have been enough to alert both humans if the expression didn't. "Do you remember the exact wording of the blessing?"

"Yea," Eragon said nervously.

"Recite it for me."

" _Atra guliä un ilian tauthr ono un atra ono waíse skölir fra rauthr."_

"When you spoke the blessing, did you experience any sudden fatigue, as if you had just cast a spell."

Eragon's eyes widened. "Yea, I did. But it couldn't have been an actual spell could it? Not every statement or wish uttered in the Ancient Language can count as a spell. I mean, just look at the elvish greeting. 'May stars watch over you'. If that was a true spell it would kill anyone who said it."

"The stars are always watching us," Oromis said. "And the other part, 'may good fortune rule over you and peace live in your heart' actually _does_ count as a minor bit of magic. Since we elves regular say it to each other, it does in fact promote peace among our own people."

"Where does the energy for that come from?" Eragon asked.

"It isn't that sort of spell. It is like an oath almost, or a ritual. Blessings like this are very tricky, and even the Riders of old aren't sure of the exact mechanics of it. Any testing of these kinds of magic were restricted due to extreme danger associated with it. I will tell you more later, but now I need to know. Are you sure you used the word ' _skölir',_ not _'sköliro'?"_

Eragon eyes widened in realization and horror. They had just spend about half an hour going over all the rules of grammar and he knew. "No, I used ' _skölir'_. I meant to say 'may luck and happiness follow you and may you be a shielded from misfortune'. Instead I said, 'may luck and happiness follow you and may you be a shield from misfortune.'"

"Indeed, and since you experienced some fatigue, there is likely to be some effect. The extent of which is impossible to predict. There is a good chance you have forced this child to sacrifice herself so that others are protected from 'misfortune'. It is even possible this curse will draw upon _your_ power to enforce itself."

"I haven't experienced any unexplained bouts of fatigue lately," Eragon said. "That should have happened if that was the case, right?"

"Yes, so we have avoided the worst scenario. Which is you dying from this. We won't know the extent of the damage until we find this child, Elva, and find out for ourselves. If we are lucky, the effects will be minimal. You can never know with these kinds of magic. Know this though, Eragon, this child is now your responsibility."

"I understand," whispered Eragon.

"If a carelessly spoken sentence is enough to cast a curse on everyone, why do elves insist on speaking the Ancient Language all the time," Helena wondered incredulously.

Oromis reverted back to Elvish. _"Because most elves are more skilled at magic than you. A young human Rider may be more powerful than any normal elf, but we have more control over the energy with which we cast spells. If we don't want to cast magic, we don't, no matter what we say. Eragon, and you too once you unlock your powers, are still inexperienced and may cast magic by accident, which is dangerous."_

"The first time I used magic, it was by accident,"

Eragon said.

 _"Normally, I wouldn't even consider teaching you this language this early. The reasons for which should be apparent by now. But we simply don't have the time to do this safely."_

Once again, Helena was forced to ask Oromis to repeat himself in English. She could tell this was going to be a common occurrence for the near future.

If understanding was difficult, than speaking it was almost impossible. Which she was forced to do if she wanted any of her questions answered about their reading assignment.

 _"There is one thing you need to understand,"_ Oromis began after she had ask whether the book, and by extension Oromis himself, disapproved of sentimentality. _"The goal of the lesson was not to judge, but to understand. Both of you need to learn this, but this is of particular significance for you, Helena. Understanding your own motivations and drives will be crucial if you hope to learn your true name. A person's true name makes no statement of whether you are right or wrong. It can never be something like 'a decent person' because decency is too vague a concept. It isn't subjective; and perspective can't play into it."_

Whenever possible, Helena allowed Eragon to ask the questions. One because he had a lot of them, and two, he had an easier time talking elvish than her.

As it turned out, the Urgals did agree to a peace treaty many times in the past. Usually when they lost a war. These treaties rarely lasted as long as a single generation however. The reasons for this, Oromis promised he would explain to them later. Since they would likely be dealing with Urgals in the future, he thought it prudent to instruct them in their ways. It wasn't a priority however, so that would have to wait.

There was one question however Helena had to ask herself. The question regarding the books view on morality and logic.

 _"I believe,"_ Oromis said. _"That there are logical reasons why we consider some things good and others wrong. Take your example of hurting innocent people for example. I could say that a person simply fears repercussion from the law or a sort of divine sort of judgment, but it is more complicated than that. Humans, elves, dwarves, and to some extent Urgals, are all social beings. A community that supports one another will do better than one that doesn't. So unspoken rules are created to promote this cooperation. Hurting an innocent person may run counter to that. Another reason could be simple empathy. Hurting someone else causes ourselves discomfort, so we don't. There are many reasons why we have the values that we do, and these reasons are not simple, and there isn't just one answer. But that the full answer is difficult to understand doesn't mean it doesn't exist."_

Helena supposed that was fair. At least she did once Oromis gave the English translation of his words. Few things were as complicated as humans, or any kind of sapient life. Again, she actually looked forward to looking deeper into this.

Oromis must have read something of her eagerness, though he held up a hand in a cautioning motion. _"There is a downside to learning more about this. By studying this topic, you might find yourself growing more distant from your own kin if you are not careful. You will have to try being aware of everyone's, workings and failings. As you try to work out to flaws in your own character it can be hard not to judge others for not doing the same. Your position demands the highest standards. Others don't have to be like that."_

There was something very arrogant in that statement, Helena couldn't help but think. She didn't comment on it though.

 _"You will have the opportunity to go further into this, but it is time we talk about your main assignments for today,"_ Oromis said. _"Helena, I need you to work on finding your true name. How you do this is up to you. You can return to your home in Ellesméra, meditate anywhere, or even go for a walk. Just so long as you spend that time thinking on who you really are."_

"I don't think I am proficient enough in this language to describe myself in it,"

Helena said.

 _"I don't expect you to think in this language, yet, but you can still contemplate your nature. If you think you are on the right track, than look up the words you think you need."_ Helena was glad she kept her copy of the dictionary Oromis had given them on her person. _"You cannot go into battle relying on others' magic to protect you. Unfortunately I have to rush you in this, and the help I can give you is limited."_ Helena nodded.

 _"Eragon, you will be coming with me today,"_ Oromis stood up and beckoned for him to follow. Eragon looked questioningly at Helena.

 _"I suppose I will see you at our home,"_ Helena said. She looked at Oromis to see if he would object to her assumption that she was dismissed for the remainder of the day.

 _"Return here in four hours to report on your progress,"_ he told her.

xxxxxxxxxx

Helena thought about Oromis's last suggestion to go for walk. It was easier to let your mind wander while you were doing some mindless activity like walking. Getting lost wasn't an issue since Godric could find her anywhere. Still, the unfamiliar terrain might be distracting. In the end, she decided to follow the cliffside back to Ellesméra. On foot that journey would take several hours. She felt a constant wind brushing against her face coming from the open cliffside.

 _If I were to describe my own personality to someone, what would I say?_ , Helena thought to herself. If someone were to really ask her that question, she would probably answer that she was just a 'normal witch'. Like everyone else at Hogwarts. _But that really is just humility speaking._ _Nobody has done what I've done, and I do take some pride in my achievements._

I need to consider why I chose to fight Voldemort.

That was properly the most defining event of her life, and it might serve to look deeper into it. _Because he was evil. Why was he evil? He killed my parents and many others. You could claim that war is all about perspective all you want, but the light always went out of its way not to kill anyone if they could help it. There isn't a moral grey area here._

'Unless by showing mercy to your enemy's, you just allowed more innocent people to die,'

Helena could almost hear Murtagh saying.

 _And even if that wasn't enough,_ Helena continued to think, trying to ignoring the echoes of the voice of a man whom she failed and failed her in turn. _They wanted to enslave or kill anyone that was different from them. Do I really need to consider why that is wrong?_

I am probably on the wrong track. This needs to be about me. Leaving aside the easy yet impossible question of justifying the right and wrong of the situation, why did I feel I needed to do something about it?

It had never been a question for her. In many ways, she just went with the flow. Voldemort kept coming after her, and she faced him.

 _But no. that wasn't strictly true was it?_ She thought almost immediately afterwards. Nobody forced her to go after the Philosophers stone or go into the Chamber of Secrets. _I never pretended that I didn't have a choice._

There was another avenue of thought that she hadn't explored yet. A point brought up by Godic at one point. _He knows me better than anyone, and he accused me of being a martyr. Is that somehow a part of my true name?_ She decided it was worth looking up what the word for martyr was in the Ancient Language to see if it would somehow stir something within her. To her disappointed, there was no literal translation for martyr in the Ancient Language. For all its power, elvish was surprisingly limited. It was probably due to its static nature. Unlike other languages, you couldn't just invent new words of power. The language was bound to magic in the state it was in at the time it was bound and couldn't change because of it. The closest translation she could find was something like _'One who sacrifices himself'._ She felt no great stirring at the that she was disappointed by that. Though she didn't have the same disdain for self-sacrifice as Godric had – at least when it came to her – she wouldn't have liked that to be the defining trait of her name.

 _Maybe I should stop looking at the past and look at the future instead._ The obvious answers were, defeat Galbatorix, contact her friends back home to reassure them she was alright, and survive doing so. She also wanted Eragon and her to 'work out', but she herself didn't know what that would look like. Eragon wanted marriage and a family, but she still felt apprehensive. She felt too young for it, as ridiculous as that sounded even to herself.

Helena had no idea how to weave her vague dreams for the future into a name for herself.

She tried _'She who always tried to do the right thing'._

Helena paused. She felt something there. It was true. At least she thought it was, and she was proud of it. It wasn't quite right, but she felt like this was closer than any of her other attempts. At least she thought it was.

 _Will I even be able to recognise my own name when I find it?_ That was what she assumed, because if not, she had no idea how this was supposed to work.

After about two hours of walking, she decided to take a break and sit herself on the cliff's edge, her feet dangling over a three hundred yard drop.

Helena sighed. It felt a little early to call for help, but Oromis was right. There was an issue of urgency. More importantly, she got the feeling that Oromis wouldn't teach her anything else until she got this right. And she _wanted_ to continue those lessons. Philosophy wasn't something she had ever spend much, or indeed any time on. Now that she got a taste of it, she agreed with Oromis that this this was important. It felt like a challenge that she had to overcome.

 _'Godric,'_ She called him when Gleadr had given him a break. Remembering the earlier warning, she had made sure to always be aware of what Glaedr was teaching him. Today he was simply giving them an overview of the history of their race. _"Can you give me a hint.'_

'You got close before, but 'tries to do the right thing' is way too vague. It could almost be applied to anyone. You have looked at the past and looked at the future, but maybe you should look at the present. Forget why you fought Voldemort. There were a lot of special circumstances there. You may insist that you had a choice to fight, but you can't deny that that fight was always going to come for you. Instead ask yourself, why you want to fight Galbatoirx. A man that didn't hurt you personally, didn't know you existed until you announced yourself, and you only had a vague notion that he was an evil king.'

Helena started to make a mental list of all of Galbatorix's crimes to justify her current quest, but Godric gave her what felt like the mental equivalent of an eyeroll. 'Here is another hint, pay special attention to when I said you wanted to fight. Not that you felt forced into it. You wanted it. This is very different from most people, including Eragon. They fight Galbatorix because they feel they must. You want it.'

'I am no glutton for battle, you know that.'

If she did, she wouldn't have needed to borrow Godric's bloodlust in the battle of Farthen Dur.

 _'Not the battles, no, but you do want to fight.'_ She felt him mentally sigh. Helena suspected he already knew her true name and was exasperated at her difficulty. As if he was trying to explain a really simple concept to her and she just wasn't getting it. _'What is that you truly want to be?'_

Helena felt herself shiver and it had nothing to do with the cool breeze. _"I want to be…"_ she spoke in elvish.

Years later, Helena would describe this moment as the moment that doomed and saved her life both.

She really hadn't been spending as much time trying to get back home as she by all rights should have. The truth was that she was. . . content with the situation as it was. Not that she didn't want to see her friends again, but. . . she liked where she was.

For seven years, the spectre of Voldemort had hung over her. It was a torment sure. . . but it was the magical world. She was eleven when it started. At the time dreaming of adventures and battles between right and wrong, and then she found it was true. She was like one of those great protagonist she had read about.

Girl-who-lived they called her. A moniker that declared her some sort of saviour. She hadn't liked it. Of course she didn't. She was a child and wanted to belong. To be one of them. This never deterred anyone from using the title if they felt like it. She wasn't supposed to like it. Heroes are supposed to be humble. They are supposed to say they just do what they have to do and that they are just like them.

But if you ignore the social aspect of it, she had _liked_ being the girl-who-lived. When Dumbledore praised her for her actions after she tried to go for the philosopher stone she had felt so _proud._ The looks of adoration Ginny gave her after she saved her life could have fuelled a Patronus. How many people can say that anyone has ever looked at them that way? And to know, without a doubt, that it was deserved. You did slay a giant a monster for her after all. So too with the looks almost _anyone_ gave her after Voldemort was defeated.

Heroes are supposed to be humble. They are not supposed to aspire to greatness, no matter what anyone in Slytherin had to say about it.

 _What now?_ She had asked herself after the fight was over. There were no more Darks Lords to mess things up. The Death Eaters were no longer a threat. She could have become an Auror. Professional Dark Wizard hunter. She had seriously considered it, but when she looked deeper into it. . . Well when there wasn't a war what did they actually do? There weren't that many wizards and witches in Britain. Within those small numbers, how many dark wizards could there be? The answer was hardly any. She had looked around in post-war magical Britain and there weren't any villains left to catch.

Hogwarts though. Hogwarts was her first home and the place where all the young magical go to train, make friends, have adventures, and grow into the persons they would become. Not that you stopped growing after school, but especially in a boarding school of such an insular community, nothing had as much influence as Hogwarts. At least that is how she saw it.

That and she liked teaching. To have other people listen to her. What better place to destroy the last remnants of Voldemort's ideals than as a teacher teaching Defence Against The Dark Arts. What if anyone of the staff had actually openly taken a stand against some of the ideas in the house of Slytherin. Not that the teachers hid their opinion, but they generally left the students to their own devices. Not entirely their fault she supposed. There weren't that many teachers around and they had enough work as it was. And most people thought the war was over at the time, so what does it matter of there were still some people sympathetic to the losing side.

Everything else she could accomplish in Hogwarts however, would pale in comparison to the defeat of Voldemort. The crowning moment of her life. Now she was supposed to get a job. A normal life. Marriage and family even. Tell stories of the war to the younger generation and take heart that such times were past.

That thought left her hollow. As terrible as it had been, she had also liked the feeling of being part of something so grand. When she had discovered her new situation is Alagaesia, she hadn't so much as hesitated to jump into this new conflict. At the time even believing that she and Godric alone would take centre stage again. Not that she was disappointed with Eragon and Saphira. Far from it. Hermione and Ron had stood behind her, but she stood at the front. Having so many others stand next to you was nice.

Galbatorix had given her to opportunity to be who she wanted to be again.

The Sorting Hat hadn't hesitated with her. Like Draco Malfoy got thrown into Slytherin before the hat had so much as touched his brow, so too had the sorting hat had screamed Gryffindor with even the fainted brush against her hair.

 _"I want to be. . ."_ Helena said again. The book with the words of power floated in the open air above her. The pages flowing by their own volition to open on the word she sought. ' _Segrungr'_ was the word. It meant. . . "Hero."

She repeated it again. "I want to be a hero." She felt something opening up inside her. _"I am she who wants to be a hero."_ Even those words couldn't define totality of her existence. Nothing could. Yet she felt a net of other words of power reaching across from it to capture every piece of her.

No wonder she was so interested Oromis lessons on Philosophy. She could hardly be a hero if she wasn't sure she was always fighting for the right side.

Helena retrieved the small leaf that Brom had given her from her bag. She had stopped trying to make it float with anything other than her own familiar power for a while now. She held it over the cliffside and opened her hand. It plummeted down the Crags of Tel'naeír. _"_ Vindr," she said. The elvish word for wind. The leaf spun into the air as a sudden gust of wind blew it back upwards. It fluttered and spun irregularly in the air in front of her for several seconds before it landed back into her open palm.

* * *

 **AN: And here it is. One of the problems with this chapter is that Oromis is a character that is many times smarter than I am, so how am I supposed to know what he thinks? I am no expert in philosophy and reasoning, yet these are the things Oromis values highly. I tried to educate myself, but that can only go so far.**  
 **A couple of taboo subjects appeared in this chapter, but I don't think Oromis would ever shy away from dealing with any subject just because it is taboo. Sorry if it makes some people uncomfortable.**

 **We are right in the middle of the second act, and it is difficult to write. A lot of character development and stuff needs to happen here, but it lacks the easy flow of the first act. I need to get this right or a lot of stuff in the third act won't make any sense. I can't promise that my update speed will ever return to what it used to be, but as you can see, I am still moving forward, no matter how slow.**


	29. The Obliterator

**Special thanks to CerealReader for betaing this story.**

* * *

 _The Obliterator. Because when you're in pain, nothing else can exist. Not thought. Not emotion. Only the drive to escape the pain. When it's strong enough, the Obliterator strips us of everything that makes us who we are, until we're reduced to creatures less than animals, creatures with a single desire and goal: escape. ~ Quote from Eragon in Eldest.  
_

* * *

 _The burning pain of a hammer hitting a finger._

That was the first memory Elva truly remembered. The feeling might have lasted for minutes, hours, or even longer. One often says that time is experienced relative to the total amount you experienced; hence why time seems to speed up when you grow older. Considering that, that memory of a thumb burning might have lasted a year.

Later she learned that Greta, her caretaker, had needed to restrain her from crawling towards somewhere, even as she cried louder and more horribly than any child has ever been known too.

Eventually the feeling of the hammer subsided, which allowed room for feelings of frustration, despair, and other pains that were merrily excruciating instead of all-encompassing.

The one that was always there was Greta's hopelessness. She wanted to help her, but had no idea how. That was the first time her curse actually _'succeeded'_. Elva was a toddler and her physical limitations prevented her from acting in any way to prevent the suffering she could sense all around her. But not this time. Greta's misery originated from being unable to stop Elva's obvious suffering.

And thus Elva's suffering became less obvious. She could no longer cry, call out for aid, or draw any attention to her pain, for that caused other people pain, and that she wasn't allowed to do. No matter how much she wanted to scream.

Greta wasn't fully reassured though. Elva may no longer scream until her throat became hoarse, but she wasn't the child she had been. The curse couldn't completely control every fiber of her body; there was nothing that could hide the constant frantic look in her eyes.

Elva knew that the only way to make her own pain stop was to relief the pain of others. Nobody needed to explain her curse to her. She knew it instinctively. It was perhaps the first thing she ever knew besides pain.

Her body was too frail to do as the curse demanded, and so it started to change. It was unnatural; it alarmed any who saw her, but she wanted it anyway. Feeling the unease of those around was a small price to pay for the promise of being able to do give the curse what it wanted, and so relief her own pain.

At night Elva escaped her crypt to practice her motor functions. She had tried it during the day, but Greta grew alarmed at the age-inappropriate behaviour so she stopped. Elva grew to love the silence of the night. There was no pain or suffering around her that she was forced to share in the dark of night. If she exhausted herself enough, she sometimes managed to sleep part of the day away. It didn't stop the pain from coming to her, but the nightmares were easier to deal with than lucidity.

Another problem presented itself when Greta tried to stop her from going out and prevent some servant from dropping a porcelain vase. Her caretaker may feed and care for her, but if she was going to prevent her from easing her pain, Elva might need to leave. If only she could make her understand!

 _"No."_ It was the first word she ever spoke and something in her voice frightened Greta, or so her curse informed her.

 _"I need to have you examined by a magician,"_ Greta said.

Her speech seemed to cause discomfort for those around her, which her curse tried to stop her from doing. It was a struggle to get more words out of her throat and the only reason she succeeded was that it was part of a plan to do as the curse demanded.

"I need to go out," Elva said. Her voice sounded raspy and hoarse; probably a result from all the screaming she used to do.

Her curse allowed her to see her own appearance in Greta's thoughts, which in itself should be telling. Elva saw herself, pale, sickly looking, and with too wide eyes with black shadows under them. The picture of a child that is being criminally mistreated. Elva, who would draw attention, and shame unto Greto for failing to take care of the child that was blessed by Eragon.

 _Eragon._ Elva's mind had awakened enough to recognise that he was the likely cause behind her curse. _Why? Why did he do this to me?_

She doubted she could convince Greta to let her out of the house, but there might still be a way to follow her compulsion anyway. The magic guided her thoughts to come up with a solution that was way too indirect for her still developing mind to come up with herself on such short notice.

"You should ask the lady with the red ponytail where to find a magician," she said, disturbing Greta even more with the advanced sentence coming out of her five month old mouth. Though dubious and worried about leaving her alone for any long length of time, Greta did eventually do as she asked, secure in the mistaken belief that Elva couldn't yet climb out of her crib. The small distraction her caretaker would provide would prevent the vase from shattering.

The relief she felt caused her to laugh for a minutes. It was too bad Greta couldn't see it; Elva's babyish laugh at that moment was one of the most normal things about her.

She also hoped that whatever magician Greta brought back would actually be able to help her somehow. That hope proved false. Greta could recall the exact words Eragon had spoken over her, but the magician sent to examine her wasn't sure as to the meaning. After that, a so called better magician named Trianna was sent who did know what the words meant. _'May good fortune follow you and may you be shielded from danger'._ Yet the words seemed to have the opposite effect.

Only when a third magician came to see her named Angela did Elva realize the nature of her curse. _'May good fortune follow you and may you be shield from danger.'_ A mistake; a simple mistake; that was all she was. Even Angela who discovered the nature of her curse had no clue how to undo it. The witch muttered something about telling Eragon exactly what she thought of him, but that didn't help Elva. She tried to hate Eragon but she couldn't bring herself to care. All she cared about was to lessening her own pain.

When it became clear that nobody was going to be able to save her, she decided that the best thing to do was to leave. One night she just crawled out of her crypt and walked into the cold night air with nothing but a blanket and a small knife. It would be difficult to survive on her own, but if she died, that too would be a relief. But she couldn't be a shield for other's pain if she were dead, so perhaps her curse would give her the strength to take care of herself?

It didn't. In this darkness the only person she was trying to help was herself, and she didn't get far before she had to sit down to rest. Her short stature and lack of experience made it so she had no idea how far she had gone. The world was large, scary, and unfamiliar to her. She thought about going back, but the memory of the inescapable pain stopped her.

She would find a way to escape her pain, one way or another.

xxxxxxxxxxx

Despite the mundane discomforts of her small body due to suboptimal sleeping conditions, that morning was the most peaceful she could remember. Somewhere in the distance she could sense Greta's alarm at her disappearance, but it didn't faze her. The best way to help her aging caretaker was to stay away. If Elva stayed, they would both be doomed to experience Greta's hopelessness.

Soon Elva became aware of her own hunger. She hadn't even given any thought to how she would get her own food. All her thoughts were along the lines of; either I will live or I won't. Both options held a certain appeal.

She would probably need money to get food. The only reason Elva even knew what money was was because it was the source of many troubled thoughts that she was forced to share.

A clink of metal sounded and she looked to find three bronze coins on the ground in front of her. She didn't look up to the man that had thrown them at her. Her eyes were not her primary way to perceive other people. She could sense his troubled mind at being able to see a homeless child beggar.

 _'Well that wasn't too hard.'_ She thought. She received a few worried looks as she went to get something to eat, but it were only small passing worries so Elva didn't feel the need to assure them.

After that she got to work. Creating distractions whenever she felt some accident was about to occur. Those were easy. Problems that didn't result from any physical injury were harder to solve. Feelings of inadequacy, grief, loneliness, fear, and shame. How did you even begin to rid people of those? She tried to whisper words of encouragement to a boy who didn't take to his weapons training as quickly as the rest, but only received a baffled look in response. Elva was a freak. Who would ever be reassured by talking to her?

Not being able to rid people of their worries, Elva was forced to experience them for herself. The combined misery of a people at war.

 _'Why do these wretches have to be so miserable,'_ Elva thought resentfully. If she had any hope of surviving in the wilds, she would go there, but she knew it would be even harder to survive there.

Not having the will to do anything else at the moment, she allowed her curse to direct her footsteps.

She arrived at a great white tent with a miasma of suffering radiating from it.

 _'How can so many people have gotten hurt?'_ She got in without a problem, but again found herself at a loss for how to help them beyond bringing them water when their throats ran dry. Eventually someone came along to ask what Elva was doing. Learning from previous encounters, Elva did her best to mimic the mannerisms of your average five year old. While the woman who quizzed her was initially enamored by the idea of a little girl caring for the sick out of the goodness of her heart, she got suspicious about Elva's evasions regarding her parents or guardians.

Elva decided it was best to leave for now. There was little she could do anyway, and the unfortunates clearly had other people to care for them.

She did come back during the night as it was one of the few sources of misery that didn't completely go away in the otherwise blessed silence.

Elva found herself standing next to the simple bed of a man that was radiating pain. He was suffering from a wound to the gut that her curse informed her she couldn't save him from. Even while asleep his face looked like he was suffering.

Elva gritted her teeth and glared. This man was ruining an otherwise peaceful night! There had to be some way to solve this. Elva's memories only comprised of a few days but she did recall something that might be promising. Another man from this very place who had also been one of this tents residence and was also one of the worst sources of pain she had ever felt. At one point the pain simply stopped without any help from anyone. Not just any pain, but all worries simply disappeared. Where previously there was a whirlwind of misery there had only been blessed silence. Elva had tried to investigate but the same woman who questioned her yesterday had herded her away from the painless man. From the worry that Elva could sense from the woman she discovered that the man was dead, and what that meant.

Could she make something like that happen for this man with the gut wound? How does one go about making a person dead? Elva tried to reach out for her curse to aid her but found that for once it didn't want to help her take a person's pain away. She would have to figure this out on her own.

Examining the dead man from before might give her a clue so she went in the direction she recalled the dead man was taken. It took a large part of the night but eventually she found him covered up with cheap linen next to a wooden platform. Elva's mind was still too new to recognise it for a funeral pyre, likely for a ceremony the next day.

She examined the corpse and discovered several significant differences between the dead man and living men, besides the lack of any suffering she could sense.

She returned to the misery tent to implement some of the ideas she had. For one thing, the dead man was a lot colder so she took that as a hint. She removed the coverings from the wounded man in the hopes he might grow cold and therefore dead.

It didn't work. If anything the suffering radiating from the man only increased. Frustrated, Elva tried her second idea born from the difference in breathing she had observed. She hoped this worked, because she didn't have much else.

Elva took a pillow from one of the empty beds and covered the man's face with it. It was too dark to see anything more than vague silhouettes, but Elva knew the moment the man woke up. Pain and discomfort were replaced by panic and fear. Elva felt her curse tense for lack of a better word. It didn't force her to stop her actions to prevent his misery – likely because her plan would also put an end to it – it just brought it to her attention. It was a strange feeling, her curse allowing her to pick the way she followed its command. Usually it just moved her body like a puppet.

Elva stuck to her plan. The man tried to resist but he was very weak. Eventually the panic and fear faded, replaced by silence. A smile appeared on Elva's face and she let out a relieved sigh. The night was free of pain again, as it should be.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Elva spend the following week just trying to survive and learning as much about the world as she could. Begging proved relatively successful so long as she pretended to be a normal child. Just so long as they only gave her money, and didn't try to get involved in her life. She appreciated that people were just trying to help her, but nobody could.

From her observations and listening in to the pain of others she discovered that the war was responsible for a significant part of the misfortune she could sense around them. This war seemed like such a large thing and Elva wasn't sure how to end it. From the worries of others she got the impression that the war would only end once the Varden were victorious. Elva considered helping the leader of the Varden, but she didn't seem to need her help. There were plenty of plots against her, but they all failed without Elva needing to do anything. Getting details from her curse was difficult, but Elva got the impression it had something to do with a sorceress loyal to Nasuada. If anything, her curse wanted her to help the assassins, since they were the ones who needed saving after their failure.

Over time Elva's sleep cycle shifted completely so she only had to spend a few hours each day among the painful daylight, mostly for the sake of collecting food. Sleeping during the day was difficult and filled with nightmares, but it was the lesser of two evils.

The nightmares were such a constant that a dream that wasn't filled with pain was all the more conspicuous. Pleasant, but conspicuous.

Elva found herself drifting in darkness. It would have been scary for other children but she enjoyed the quiet. If this was a dream she hoped it would last for a long time. Until at one point she was surprised to hear footsteps in the distance. Footsteps meant people; people meant pain. Yet she couldn't sense any troubled thoughts or anything. Odd. Even in dreams she could sense the pain of others, which Elva suspected was due to her curse confronting her with the unfortunate people she tried to flee from.

A silhouette appeared in the distance, and though there was no discernible light source, Elva had no trouble seeing him once he was close enough. He was an elderly gentlemen with pitch black hair and eyes, finely dressed like a successful merchant. _'Hello there little one,'_ he called out with a smile in the deepest voice Elva had ever heard.

"Where is your pain?" she asked. It was far more blunt than she normally was, but she couldn't help. She had to know! Perhaps she could replicate it for others.

"Oh I am not devoid of pain, child. I just know how to hide it better than most."

"How do you hide it?"

"Only very few would be able to, so you can't teach it to others," the man answered with a wry smile, correctly guessing her motive. The man hunkered down so he was at eye-height with Elva. She didn't notice the moment when she stopped drifting and started to stand on the void as if it was solid ground. "You are a very special girl, aren't you?"

"I wish I wasn't," Elva answered with her head lowered despondently.

A finger to her chin lifted her head back up. "I know you don't. What was done to you is terrible." He placed a hand on her tiny shoulder and squeezed slightly, comfortingly.

"Who are you?" Elva asked tentatively.

"You may call me Ebrithil if you want."

"Am I mad already, that I would dream up an imaginary friend?"

The corners Ebrithil's mouth lifted. "Why do you think this dream is yours and not mine?" He waved his hand and they suddenly found themselves in a colourful playroom with toys and pillows scattered across the floor. "Enjoy."

Elva's mouth hung open and she found herself blinking away tears. "I– I think it's too late for me– for those things."

"No pain will reach you here child. Just try and try not to think about tomorrow. No matter what anyone else says, or what you think, you are still a child and deserve some careless fun in your life."

He stood up and somehow Elva knew he was about to leave. "Wait!"

"I would love to stay but I am a busy man. But have no fear, we will meet again soon." And the next time Elva blinked, he was gone.

Elva looked around herself and felt herself overwhelmed at the gift she had been given. First hiccups, then sniffing, then even full out bawling. Crying children brought discomfort to others so this had been forbidden to her. But there was nothing here. A silence more complete than that of the night. The curse that had been pulling her along, demanding that she became more than a toddler, was nowhere to be found.

With the first truly childlike smile in weeks, she reached out for the wooden toy dolls. After tiring herself out, she allowed herself to fall on one of the man-sized pillows and, despite being in a dream already, somehow drifted to sleep.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When she woke in the morning, Elva recalled the 'dream' with perfect clarity. It was so clear it made her doubt whether it had been a dream at all. That she still felt tired like she'd only slept a few hours added to the impression.

It had been worth it though; so worth it.

Dream or no, it was gone now, and the pain of strangers demanded her attention again.

That day she discovered a new way to help people. Stealing valuables from people who could afford to lose them, and dump them on people who really needed them. The amount of misery her thieving created was minimal compared to the amount that was elevated elsewhere, so it was all good. Her curse agreed, since it guided her towards easy profitable targets and helped her avoid discovery.

And that was pretty much her day. She continued to ruminate on ways to end the war, but still couldn't come up with anything feasible. Fighting in the war herself was the obvious way to help, but that would require inflicting pain on others. If she was going to cause pain to someone she was only going to do so from very far away where that pain couldn't affect her.

Another plan– no not a plan, a hope, was that she could escape to whatever dream Ebrithil had offered her. She was looking so forward to seeing whether he would return in her dreams that the day passed by in a crawl. True, she likely would still need to return to the real world eventually, but that might be bearable if she had the occasional respite.

Elva tried to close her eyes and drift off to sleep way sooner than she normally did, but she needed to be truly exhausted for sleep to overcome the need to be a shield for others' pain.

When she finally collapsed as per the norm for her, she soon found herself back into the playroom, still as isolated from the word's pain as ever.

"Now that is quite the treat," a familiar voice made her jump in surprise. "Such a relieved expression on your face, girl. I don't think I can recall ever seeing it's like. Truly you are the living proof that to truly know happiness you must also know what it is like to suffer."

"Will I be able to return here every time I sleep?" Elva asked the question she wished she had asked last time. The fear that the answer might be no had been terrible. Is terrible.

Ebrithil sighed. "Maybe. It is a gift from me to you, but I can't make it automatic. I need to pay attention, at least briefly, and I am a very busy man, and will be even busier in the future."

"Please," Elva begged. "I need this place. I have been trying to help as many people as I can, but it is all too complicated. Poverty, disease, the war, all of these problems are simply beyond my ability to solve."

"Are they?" Ebrithil quirked an eyebrow. "Like I said, I have been paying some attention, and I must say I am impressed. That man you killed was dying in the triage tent, and you gave him mercy; you ended his pain. You could learn to heal if you have the will to learn, and for those that are beyond healing you could do as you did before. As for poverty, your solution is far from ideal, but you have helped some people with your erhm–" He gave a chuckle, "creative redistribution of wealth."

"But it is never enough, and I don't have a clue on how to end the war."

"You must have _some_ ideas."

"I thought about helping Nasuada, but I don't think she needs me. At least, not yet."

"I see," Ebrithil mumbled. "Have you considered other ways to end the war?"

"I can't think of anything."

Ebrithil then proceeded to take a box of wooden toy soldiers and arranged them in two groups opposite each other. One group was twice the size of the other.

"If these two groups are fighting, which would have the advantage?" Ebrithil asked.

Elva gave Ebrithil an exasperated glance that clearly meant 'duh' and pointed at the larger group. Ebrithil directed a similar look back at her.

"Oh," Elva said once she got the message. "You are suggesting that I help the empire because they can win more quickly?" Ebrithil hummed an affirmative. "Well that wouldn't work," Elva continued. "I am cursed to alleviate the pain of those close to me. If the empire wins, then the people who I am bound to help will be even worse off."

"And what of the people living in the empire now? The Varden's actions will cause them a lot of trouble, to put it mildly."

"They are too far away for me to sense their pain, so fuck 'em."

Ebrithil guffawked. "Fair enough, but have you considered that you might eventually. . . move closer to them. The Varden are invading, after all. Getting close to the people you are invading, unfortunately, is necessary step, I'm sad to say."

Elva gave Ebrithil a considering look. "You are with the empire, aren't you? Nobody here would ever talk to me about helping the other side."

Ebrithil nodded matter-of-factly.

"And you are trying to recruit me." It wasn't a question.

"Clever girl," Ebrithil complemented. "Yes, if you just moved to another place you will be surrounded by people who are a lot easier to help than the poor sods that keep you awake now."

The notion was difficult for Elva to wrap her head around. She had a keen sense of everybody's pain, and the empire was blamed for a lot of it. That made Elva want to oppose it out of that principle alone.

Ebrithil wasn't necessarily wrong though, and she was at least willing to think about it. "Was that the only reason you created this safe haven for me? To get me on my side."

"It was my greatest motivator. I am sorry if that is disappointing to you. Men in my position can't act on sentiment alone. Even– no, _especially_ our acts of kindness often have hidden motivations. But allow me to say this: I do think that a grave injustice has been done to you, and extending a helping hand to you is making me all warm and fuzzy inside. And I do think that by helping me you will be able to help more people in the long run. I may even be able to help or at least alter your curse to make it more bearable."

 _Helping me, not helping the empire._ "Are you Galbatorix himself?"

"Yes, I thought it might freak you out of I introduced myself as such." The black king shrugged. "Sorry for the deception." He didn't sound very sorry.

Elva admitted to herself she might have indeed freaked out. Or freaked out even more than she was now. Before her stood the most feared man in the world. The source of much of the misery that she was forced to shield against. A part of her wanted to attack, another wanted to flee, but the largest part of her was desperate for what was being offered.

"You said you might be able to alter my curse?"

"There is normally only one way to truly undo a spell of this nature. It requires one to perfectly understand and articulate not only the wording of the original enchantment but also all its workings and intentions. This is doubly hard for a spell that is accidental, works opposite the original casters intent, and is way more far-reaching than one would expect. If you are not the original caster, it becomes even harder to undo. I may be the greatest magician currently alive, but even I would hesitate to attempt such a thing. There is another easier way, but it has its own downside. I could layer a second enchantment upon you that would directly counter what the current one does. This is far easier, and since I am not amateur, I would be able to undo and retry the fix with relative ease. The problem is that the energy for this second spell would need to come from you. It won't be that much, but it would mean you will tire more quickly than you otherwise would." Galbatorix pursed his lips in thought. "I suppose you could wait for Eragon to return from the elves, but it was his mistake that lead to this. How do you feel about him?"

"I don't. . . like him," Elva said carefully.

"Understandable, but try not to hate him too much. His crime was born of incompetence, not malice. Hating him would be a waste, but it does make relying on him to fix you a bit tricky. Though I have no doubt he will try to help you once he learns of you. I suppose you could wait for him and hope he has grown more reliable in the last few months." Galbatorix shrugged as if the matter of her coming to him or Eragon was of little consequence to him.

"My father died fighting you and your empire," Elva said. It was one of the few things she knew about him.

"I am sorry to hear that. I could try to argue my empire's case, but I won't. It shouldn't matter to you. You. Are. A Child," he punctuated. "The fate of this world shouldn't be your responsibility. Taking care of others, shouldn't be you responsibility. Instead, you should let a grown-up try and take responsibility for you."

He was saying nothing Elva hadn't thought herself on multiple occasions. She had hoped that some of the Varden's magician's might be able to help her, but they had all failed. All the adults in her life had failed. She wanted so badly to be a child again, but had resigned herself that it was impossible. "As for your parents. If they were any good they would want you take any opportunity to escape from your curse. Nobody would wish that on their child."

"What would you expect from me in return for your help?"

"Suspicious aren't you? I suppose that's fair. I would want to keep you close and perhaps study you. You are the only one ever to have the _Gedwëy Ignasia_ and not be a Rider yourself. I want to see if it has any affects. Even if not, having you, a child blessed by Eragon and thus expected to do great things, as my willing ward would be a serious blow to the Varden's morale and Eragon's specifically. The amusement that alone would provide me would be worth it right there."

"Eragon is not the Varden's best Rider," Elva decided to point out. "Helena Life-bringer is supposed to be a magic user like this world has never seen."

"That is more true than most people realize," Galbotorix grinned. "But she is not all powerful, and since she didn't cast your curse, she would face the same problems as I do. Trying to undo your curse, or at least render it harmless is a delicate task. From what I have seen, even Helena doesn't quite understand her own powers or their limitations. But, yes, you could ask her instead of Eragon if you want to take that chance, and wait however long it takes her to return from the Elves. But I know for certain that I can deliver on my promise. If you trust me that is."

Trust wasn't the right word for what Elva felt right now. Galbatorix wasn't really on her side and he didn't pretend to be. It was just that all the reasons he gave for helping her, all of them presented as self-serving, made sense. She got the impression that Galbatorix hadn't lied because he thought the truth would be enough to convince her. And it was. Whatever else he was, Galbatorix was supposed to be a powerful magic user with centuries of experience. If anyone could save her, he could. And while she didn't hate the Rider who 'blessed' her, the thought of his reaction to this development was satisfying.

"I will never get to Uru'bean on my own."

Lips twitched upward and black eyes gleamed. "Three nights from now, wander into forests west from where the Varden are camped. My servants will find you."

* * *

 **Am I the only one that sees that Elva could have very easily become an antagonist with her backstory?**  
 **The next chapter is probably going to be long and take many months. I have been working at it for about a month already and its only at around 2k words right now and I expect it is going to end in the 30k range. Pathetic, I know. I try to write something every day, but man does it go slow. My schooling isn't helping with its endless amount of assignments and reports that I need to write.**

 **Oh well. I hope that this little twist can tickle you guys' imagination for a long time.**

 **CHEERS!**


	30. Crossroads On The Horizon

AN: Special thanks to CerealReader for pointing out my many grammar mistakes, odd word choices, and typos.  
This chapter was the work of three months and is the longest chapter thus far. I am very glad to finally be able to share it. Wow, has been over two years since I started on this journey? Update speed won't improve, but I WILL finish it. I don't pretend I am anything more than an amateur author, but this story is one of the few things I am truly proud of in my life. Its not going anywhere.

* * *

"Ah! I was just about to contact you," Oromis said cheerfully. "By that expression on your face I take it you were successful."

Helena stood in the door opening of Oromis's hut. Eragon had already returned and was sitting across the elf at the table. "Your plan worked. There is power in me that– well I guess I always knew it since it's the energy I use to live. . . but. . . Its mine now. I now belong to. . . me. . . Blimey this hard to explain."

"Your reaction is not unusual," Oromis gave a small smile and motioned for her to join them.

Helena thought about telling that Godric basically had to spell her name out for her before she got it, but decided against it. "My name. its–"

"No!" Oromis yelled, startling both his students. "Nobody is to know. The fewer the better. Share it with Godric, if you must, but no other."

"I know." Helena knew the consequences of anybody learning her name. Total dominance. She was even a little worried that Godric knew her name. There were instances in the past where he might have used that power if he thought he needed to to save her life. And even if she trusted Eragon completely and suspected Oromis wasn't the type to abuse power and they wouldn't betray her name, knowledge could be forcibly taken. "I meant to say that my name seems obvious now that I know what it is."

"That is also not unusual," Oromis said. "A common flash of insight into your own motivations, flaws, and a clearer sense of purpose are all common reactions. I'd advise against talking about it in any form until at least a few days, lest you risk blurting out your name by accident."

Helena nodded, though she knew she had to talk to Eragon at least. Considering his plans for her, there were some things he deserved to know. "So what happens now?"

"Now you won't have to rely on others to protect you so much, and you must try to catch up on all the lessons on the Ancient Language that Eragon has already learned. With one on one sessions from me, and plenty of effort on your part, I hope that won't take too long." Oromis included Eragon into the conversation with a look. "From now on you will both have one on one training with me when the other is practicing something that doesn't require regular oversight. Speaking of which, Eragon, why don't you tell Helena what you have been doing and what you learned."

"Well, while I doubt it would measure up to learning my true name, it was definitely interesting," Eragon had that expression he wore when he was contemplating the nature of the universe and his place in it. It had become a common look on him over the last few months. "I spend hours sitting upon a tree stump with my eyes closed, sensing the world with my mind. We already know how to do it, but I didn't realize just how much there was. Or rather. . ." He trailed off.

"We knew, but never payed enough attention to it to really understand," Helena finished for him.

"I was always aware of the minds of people, but there are entire countries with complex communities hidden under every tree," Eragon said almost reverently. "I could sit on that spot and never fully understand everything that happened around me."

"What exactly did you learn?" Oromis pressed.

Eragon than proceeded to explain the workings of eusocial insects. The role of each unit, how they set about accomplishing their jobs, and how they perceive the world. Helena would have normally found it quite boring if it wasn't for the obvious excitement Eragon found in it.

Oromis didn't seem impressed however. "Is that all?" he asked when Eragon finished explaining how ants herded aphids and used the tinnier insects as honeydew producers. Like a farmer and his cow.

Eragon face fell. "I . . . yes, Ebrithil."

 _Always eager to please,_ Helena thought. _I don't want Oromis to go easy, but Eragon needs a few victories._

"Did you notice any other animals besides ants?"

"There was a squirrel and plenty other insects, though not as numerous as the ants."

"Can you tell me what those other insects were doing? And did you sense anything in the air, or in the trees?"

"No, EbrithiL," Eragon opened and closed his mouth without sound.

"Yes?" Oromis prompted.

"I don't want to make excuses."

"It isn't an excuse if you explain your own difficulty to seek advice."

"Trying to keep track of everything at once is like trying to look at a hundred different things at the same time. There is too much to focus on."

"Try to think of it less like seeing and more like hearing. You can listen to the sound of one voice, while being aware of the noise around you and what it stands for. Try and broaden your focus next time. This is an important lesson and you will meditate for an hour each day until you master it."

"Shall I be doing the same thing?" Helena asked.

"Yes, and hopefully soon, but not directly from me. While you will have a large part of your training in common, you and Eragon will learn and focus on some different skills. I don't have the time to teach both of you everything, but this way you two will have access to more knowledge, together. It is my hope that at the end of each day and even after you leave Ellesméra, you two can instruct each other in the things the other didn't learn." Oromis paused. "Alright, I warned you that you would be quizzed at the end of the day on what your partner learned. Godric, is lucky since we can't question him on Helena's private contemplations, but for the rest of you. . ."

Oromis started his quizzing as soon as Glaedr returned with his charges. Of the three of them, Eragon and Saphira had it worst. Since Helena had only been walking and quietly contemplating, that left plenty of effort to keep track of what Godric was doing. Eragon's task probably required more concentration, and Saphira had been busy training with Glaedr. Eragon may have already shared most of his findings with Helena and Oromis, but Saphira hadn't been present for that.

It wasn't a total bust though, and Saphira and Eragon could answer about two thirds of the questions. Likely only due to Oromis warning them beforehand that they would be tested. "You still need to do better. Your minds must be so deeply connected that talking becomes unnecessary. You must be as one life with two minds. While you study here, there is no Eragon without Saphira, and no Saphira without Eragon." Helena and Godric were excluded from the chastisement since she was able to answer all the questions, but they took the words to heart as well.

"Yes, Ebrithil," Eragon said, echoed by Saphira. "Will we be expected to have such a deep connection constantly?" It was clear that he wasn't terribly fond of that idea.

"You don't need to, but I do advise it. I understand the need to escape into the privacy of your own thoughts for a while, but there should be nothing you shouldn't be able to share with each other." Just like last time, Oromis took out a book from one of his shelves and one relatively small scroll. "These are well tested wards that I want you, Helena, to cast over yourself tomorrow under my watch. Practice the pronunciation this evening. Eragon can tell if you get it wrong. You don't need to memorize the spells, so long as you keep this scroll well hidden. As further homework, I want you to continue to read the book from last time. Eragon, this book presents a myriad of difficult problems, and I want you to design a spell for the first twenty situations presented in chapter five."

' _As for you two,'_ Glaedr's voice sounded, clearly addressing his juniors. _'I want you to practice the intensity of your fire. Fifty miles south-east of here you will find very uniform rocks. Count the time it takes you to melt them, and try do it as fast as possible._

"But before you leave for today, I will spend another two hours assessing each of your abilities in combat. Arya has already shared some memories to give me an idea, but I want to see it for myself. Neither of you have done mush physical activity today and spent a lot of time in meditation or contemplations. You should both be at your best right now.

Helena had to fight back a smile. This would be a nice change after all the doubts and mental gymnastics Oromis loved putting her through. She didn't enjoy the killing and hurting part of combat, but she did enjoy the competition, even if she lost more often than not against the likes of Eragon.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Ever since Eragon had showed her that her mentality was her real problem, she had endeavoured to fix it. To fight with all she had even if victory was impossible. Now that she had fully come to terms with her desire to be a hero, that mentality had become even more appealing to her.

Fighting Oromis was different from fighting Arya. Oromis said his disease had made him weaker, and it showed. His speed didn't require Helena to strain her eyes in fear of blinking, and his strength didn't leave her arms numb after blocking every blow.

She still didn't stand a chance though. Oromis had clearly mastered his weapon after over seven hundred years of practice. Every move he made was controlled and purposeful. Helena had the impression that Oromis was like Murtagh in that his skill was earned through practice and not obtained through natural talent like with Eragon.

Just like with Arya, the only reason the 'fight' – if you could even call it that – lasted as long as it did was that Oromis wanted to give her the opportunity to show what she could do. Oromis had permitted Helena to use mental attacks in conjunction with her weapon, but those slid over Oromis' mind like hands through mist. The ancient elf had clearly learned to more difficult form of Occlumency.

Helena had practiced with Eragon frequently on their trip to Ellesméra and when Oromis finally knocked her on her ass with the pommel of his sword she thought she – while clearly only just past the novice stage – had nothing to be ashamed off. She had fought with everything she had and that was something she could respect in herself.

Oromis looked down at her and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Much as I expected."

Helena pushed herself off the dry ground, crawled back to her feet, and looked at Oromis like she knew the failing verdict was coming, but wouldn't let it get to her.

Oromis didn't say anything more to her though and turned to Eragon. "Let me see what you can do before I decide on anything."

Eragon jumped up from the grassy ground where he had been sitting and watching. He rolled his shoulders and drew out his already bluntly enchanted blade with an expression that Helena couldn't decide whether it was calm or closed-off, but was definitely focused.

Oromis raised his guard, causing Eragon to do the same. Helena wasn't sure what the signal to begin was, or if it was coincidence, but Oromis and Eragon charged each other at the same time. The impression that Oromis resembled Murtagh in his fighting was reinforced further by how similar this fight was to the many she had witnessed between Eragon and Murtagh. After the initial clash where Eragon was noticeably not immediately pushed back like Helena knew any elf could have done, it felt like she was watching a high speed chess match again. Oromis still had that elven grace that made it seem like he was dancing around Eragon, while Eragon was more brutal, but the result was still more or less even.

At least in the beginning. As the spar wore on, Eragon's parries grew notably more. . . frantic. Helena's first thought was that Eragon was growing tired. Her second thought was that Eragon should have way more stamina than this. The third thought, which she immediately realized was correct, was that Oromis was growing faster. The increase in tempo was simply so gradual it wasn't immediately noticeable. As she watched Eragon move backwards to win himself more time between blows, Helena saw that the elf had definitely gone beyond normal human capabilities. More than he had shown against her.

Helena knew then she had been wrong. Oromis's illness hadn't made him weaker. He had just been limiting himself to give them a more reachable opponent.

Eragon whispered words that were too low for her to hear and, like a snake, struck out with a speed beyond what he should have been capable of. Their blades clashed with a much louder sound than usual. This time it was Oromis who was forced to take a step back. "Interesting. Have you done that before?"

"Against Durza," Eragon answered. "My skill with a blade won't matter if my opponent's strength and speed are just on another level. I need a way to go beyond what I'm normally capable of. Arya says it's dangerous though, and wanted me to wait to practice it until I could ask you for advice."

"You could seriously hurt yourself altering your body like that, but I suspect you knew that already," Oromis guessed and received a nod from Eragon. "The elves do have a lot of experience with altering our bodies to suit our preference, but not in this way. For one thing, we are a lot more careful, precise, and long-term with our alternations. There is not a lot of precision or care with just saying the words for strength and speed."

"I say the name of the attributes that I lack, and I gain them temporarily," Eragon shrugged. "It seemed clear to me."

Oromis hummed thoughtfully. "How exactly do you envision this spell of yours working. Do you pull your body forward like a puppet, or do you try to alter the workings of your muscles?"

"I never really thought about it much, but I guess the second would be more accurate."

"I had hoped differently, since it wouldn't be as dangerous as what you're doing now. Don't think that by doing this sort of thing often your body will acclimate to the strain. If anything you will gradual weaken your body if you do this regularly. It will always be a sword without a hilt. That said, I won't tell you never to use it. Sometimes such a sacrifice can be needed. I know that better than most."

"I can't use it in spars?"

"No. You just proved you can do it, and that's enough. I think your natural talents with magic will suffice here."

Helena felt a little bad about the fact that she could cheat with her weapon enchantments with impunity, but Eragon couldn't do the same by altering his body. It was a little unfair. _'Oh well, even without magical aid Eragon is doing better than me.'_ At least at this particular part of their training.

Oromis and Eragon continued their spar for another half hour. This time Eragon equipped a shield as he preferred to do in serious battles but didn't always have the opportunity to. Oromis notably didn't do the same and faced the sword and broad with just his sword. Not that that seemed to hinder him. The elf started back at human speed at the start, and this time Helena definitely noticed to gradual increase in speed. Yet despite that, Eragon was still putting up a fight. Oh, he was obviously losing and everybody could see that, but the point was that he was still resisting an obviously superior foe.

It couldn't last, of course, and Helena was simply waiting for Oromis to decide that enough was enough. The timespan between the soft taps that Oromis placed on Eragon to indicate a successful hit had grown to less than five seconds when it happened.

Eragon managed to parry Oromis' blade with his cross guard and charged forward with his shield. Helena didn't know what Eragon hoped to accomplish since she knew that he knew he would lose any contest of strength on strength, but perhaps he was simply desperate. Helena didn't blame him.

Oromis absorbed the impact of the shield bash with his shoulder and placed a hand around the metal edge. Helena fully expected the shield to be sent flying, possibly with Eragon still clinging to it, when their teacher's body convulsed as if he had been shocked by lighting.

In that moment of vulnerability Eragon released his shield and tackled Oromis to the ground with his newly free elbow. It was telling just how weak Oromis' episode made him that he actually cried out in pain when Eragon's attack hit, something he had never done during any other point in the fight.

Helena sprang to her feet, and again lamented her lack of healing skills.

Eragon stared in horror for several seconds before falling to his knees in supplication. "I am sorry Ebrithil! I acted on instinct."

For several excruciating seconds both junior riders could only watch helplessly until Oromis' tremor's finally lessoned. When they ceased entirely, Oromis slowly sat up and breathed in several times before climbing back to his feet. Only then did he seem to realize the distressed state of his pupils. "Get up Eragon. This wasn't your fault. I know my limitations and chose to exert myself regardless. I got as carried away trying to determine your limits as you were in showing them. You should be proud; I don't think there is anything more I can teach you in regards to sword fighting. Only experience can improve your skill at this point. To that end, you will practice an hour of every day with another elf, Vanir. Tomorrow I will send someone to guide you so you know the way."

"Why can't I practice with you?"

"Because even I have limits Eragon."

"Oh," Eragon briefly averted his eyes. "You mean your. . ." It was clear he was uncomfortable mentioning it.

"My limitations," Oromis finished, and received a small nod in return. "That, but mainly I speak of just needing a little time off. You and Helena will rotate between practicing on your own, private tutoring with me, small breaks, and listing to my lectures together wherever appropriate. When one of you takes a break, the other will still be working with me. But even I need some time to rest, Eragon. I see no need to strain myself when having you train with another can serve just as well. Besides, it will be good for you to interact with other elves. I am not representative of my race."

Oromis turned to Helena next. "You will also learn to wield your weapon with another, but I don't think you will gain much from normal sparring with elves at your current level." Helena nodded and tried to squash the small feeling of shame. "I think the best thing for you would be to continue training with other humans, or even dwarves. If Eragon wasn't busy himself, I would suggest you continue having him teach you, as I understand he has been doing. As it is, I will assign someone else for you. Just like Eragon, you will receive a guide tomorrow so you know the way. Now, if there is nothing else, you are both free to leave."

"Actually there is one more thing I want to bring up," Eragon said, and he continued after a 'yes' from Oromis. "I have found that any spell I cast that has 'fire' in it is easier for me to cast. Is that normal?"

"It is not unusual for someone to be particularly adept at using a word of power, and interpreting it so it can do far more than one would first suspect. But what exactly do you mean by easier? Do you just have more control or do spells that manipulate fire actually cost you less than you would expect?"  
 _  
_"I wouldn't know what to expect. I have no point of comparison except my own. It just feels like it should be harder than it is. I have no better way to explain it.""The cost of a spell isn't depended on the person casting it, and there are ways to measure energy usage, so we can compare what you use to what you should need. It shouldn't be possible for you to lessen the cost of a spell through affinity, but I hesitate to say anything is impossible these days.  
Now, have pleasant evening, and may the stars watch over both of you."

 _xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_

They had just returned to their treehouse. A handful of elves had been waiting at the base of their tree to ask Godric and Saphira for the honour of sketching them. The dragons had agreed, leaving their humans to do their own thing. Eragon looked like he was going to dive right into the assignment given by Oromis and Helena felt herself being peer pressured into doing the same.

There was something she needed to do first though.

"Eragon, can we talk for a moment?"

"Of course." Eragon sat himself at the table in the living room across from her.

"You asked me what I intend to do after this war is finished, right?"

"Yes," Eragon said with a hint of trepidation.

"Well, I think it is likely I won't stay here in Alagaesia forever."

"You have decided to return home?"

"No, at least not permanently. I think I will continue to. . . continue my journeys, is the best way I can describe it. Never really settling down in one place, if you know what I mean."

"I see," Eragon said, and it was impossible for her to tell what he was thinking.

"Angela's prophecy about you included a part about you leaving Alagaesia forever, right? Perhaps you are meant to come with me?"

"We shouldn't pay that much attention to prophecy, I believe those were your words," Eragon sighed. "This is my home, Helena. And I feel that my duty will be here. I can't just pack up and leave."

 _Yet he wants to ask me to leave behind all I know to stay here?_ Helena thought sardonically. "I just feel like I will be able to do more good elsewhere once peace is restored."

"Restoring peace is only the beginning. We also need to maintain it, like the Riders of old did."

"Even if that means we ignore other evils like Galbatorix out there?" she motioned with her hands to include the entire world, though she truly meant even more than this world.

"Of course not. But what else is out there? There are no more dark lords where you come from, and Alagaesia isn't hiding another great evil under some rock. Eventually we will have to think about having a real life."

 _This is my life._ "Where I come from, the whole planet has been mapped and explored. I thought I knew what the possibilities were. And then I ended up here. Who knows what else is out there. Perhaps there are many other worlds out there who need my help more than any world at peace."

"And here I thought my responsibilities looked large before," Eragon muttered. "I don't know Helena. I considered coming with you if you were ever to return home so I could see the world you came from, but this is quite a bit more than that. Besides, you haven't even figured out how to return to your own world, let alone how to explore entirely new ones. I think you may be putting the horse before the cart here."

"I suppose that fair," Helena admitted. "I just thought you deserved to know my mind on the matter. I don't intend to stay static for very long."

"And I thank you for it," Eragon smiled. "I am starting to think you had the right idea before. Let's just take it one day at a time and see where we end up."

Helena thought that 'taking it one day at time' was just an excuse to avoid facing the problem they could both see coming. Helena was also very much aware how hypocritical that thought was.

"Anyway, tell me when you want to practice the pronunciation for your wards. Until then, I want to look at these problems Oromis gave me."

"Actually, I'd like to do that right now, if you don't mind?

Ordinarily Helena would have allowed herself a few moments rest before diving into her work, but she had spent a large part of her time on a peaceful walk just thinking; hardly an exhausting affair.

"That's fine. Just– just make sure that don't cast the magic by accident." Helena knew they were both thinking of Eragon's failed blessing. "Try casting a few simple spells, and then say the words of the spell without giving it power. Just to be sure."

That was probably a good idea. "Move!" she commanded in elvish to one of two remaining unused chair. It flew into the air as she wanted, but she immediately realized she was using her regular old power again. She allowed it to drift back to the ground, took a deep breath, and thought of her true name. Her head suddenly felt clearer and she was able to pull on the power she used before while also suppressing the other. "Move!" she tried again, and it drifted into the air again. Before, at the cliffside, she had only lifted a small leaf. This chair was heavier, and true to what she had expected, she started to notice the spell draining her vitality. Carefully, very carefully, she moved the chair further away from her and felt the strain on her increasing. It was strange. The strain wasn't on any particular muscle or part of her body, yet it was definitely physical in nature. If it wasn't for the awareness granted by her name, she would have been even more confused. As it was, she had good estimate for how much energy she had and how fast it was leaving her. About forty minutes; that was how long she could keep this chair hovering about six feet in front of her. Somewhere around that time, if the spell hadn't been cancelled, she would lose consciousness, then die about five minutes later.

 _I can't see myself ever using this if I can use my other magic instead._ She didn't envy the magicians of Alagaesia; this power wasn't nearly as much of a cheat as her own.

Helena dropped the chair back in place. "I don't think I can use this power by accident." And with that, Helena started to practice the wards she'd need to speak tomorrow. It wasn't that hard. While she was still unfamiliar with this language, careful pronunciation was something Hogwarts drilled into her skull by the end of first year. The wards took about five minutes to say in their entirety. Repeat that four times and they were done in less than half an hour.

Afterwards, it occurred to her that Oromis hadn't given her as much homework as she'd thought. He'd just told her to read her book, without specifying how much. Was it yet another test? Her instructions were vague, so it was up to her to decide. Would she read an hour and say she'd done what was asked of her, or would she put in the work to read for four hours? And if she only read for an hour, would Oromis's instructions be more specific next time, or would he continue to prod her into motivating herself?

 _Urgh. I am thinking too much about all of this._ It wasn't as if these books were difficult, and she had been honest about her desire to learn more. She summoned the small book and decided to read in the living room while Eragon studied in the bedroom. If they wanted to get done as much as possible, she knew it was best that they didn't distract each other.

Helena tried to forget that these books were a task she'd been given and instead tried to treat it like a leisure activity. It might seem lazy, but Helena found she retained a lot more information and could keep it up longer if she was enjoying herself.

If she had been more well read in her own world, she would have recognised several of the theories presented.

Such as the universalizability principle. Which Helena would simplify as the idea of not doing what you don't want others to do as well. In other words, there are no exceptions for you or anyone. You can't steal, because you don't want others to steal. She'd have recognised it as something belonging to the German philosopher Immanuel Kant. As it was, she read it under the elven name, Taegen Perro.

She learned of the various forms of Utilitarianisms. Helena had heard of that word before, but it had always had a negative connotation with her. She had thought it as an 'ends justify the means' kind of thinking, but that wasn't how it was presented. Not fully. Utilitarians, in accordance with the text, should act in a way that produces the greatest amount of welfare for the greatest amount of people. And your own interests and feelings don't matter anymore than anyone else's. For example, if it was up to you to pick some fun activity for you and your friends to do, you should pick something everybody can enjoy instead of what you liked the most. This becomes more difficult, but stays true, if others don't share your generous disposition and instead pick whatever they like when it's their turn to choose. Helena thought Utilitarianism came across as a very demanding moral theory. It essentially required its adherents to almost disregard their own wants for the sake of everyone else's. Well, not disregard, per se, but it didn't count your own wellbeing as more important than anyone else's. Given her own True Name, that part of Utilitarianism appealed to her.

But there was another side to Utilitarianism that warred with her own views. The one she had expected. It said that actions can only be judged by their outcomes. If by killing a single person, you save multiple people, you are morally obligated to do so.

Helena was simultaneously glad and frustrated that a list of criticisms followed each and every theorem. With the universalizability principle, it showed examples of situations where lying, stealing, or killing – all immoral acts – commons sense dictates should be allowed. A murderer asking you for direction on his target. A mother stealing a piece of bread for her small child. Killing in self-defence or the defence of another. There are extremely few cases in which a situation cannot be imagined in which a normally reprehensible act cannot be justified. Oh, there were some, but not enough to base your whole morality around.

But if you went with the utilitarian principle, you get situations where you might need to hurt innocents in order to cause some greater good. The problem with that is that nobody has perfect sight for what will lead to the greatest good. How many atrocities have been committed because somebody thought it served some higher purpose? If everybody accepted that there were a few things that you just didn't do, not matter the reason, the world would be a safer place, and Helena agreed with that notion.

Considering all these questions, Helena couldn't help but think back to the Battle of Farthen Dûr. Helena didn't recall killing more than a small handful of Urgals herself. Godric did most of the killing, using Helena's magic as support. She wouldn't draw a distinction though. They were a team and his sins- if they could even be called that – were her sins.

 _There was nothing I could have done to save them all,_ she thought to herself. She may have spells that were perfect for defeating and capturing enemies without killing them, but the Urgals would have just been cut down by the Varden if she tried that. But if she had done that, would the moral blame of those dead then be on her or on the other humans who finished them off? The Universality principle would suggest she was blameless, but in the Utilitarian view she'd be equally responsible since she'd known what would happen. But then again, if she didn't do anything, then the Urgals would kill her allies. The book did mention that most moral dilemmas were dilemmas precisely because it was a choice between evils.

Helena didn't really find any definite answers. Just more questions and ideas that she'd already known deep inside. It wasn't like she'd never faced hard choices before.

She was starting to think that philosophy was the science of explaining that which everybody already knows, albeit in a way that nobody understood it wanted her to base her morals on more than just her heart, but not a single one of these theories didn't come with a long list of buts. Helena really wasn't surprised. Morality couldn't be reduced to a simple equation. In the end it seemed she was still left to rely on her own heart to decide what's ring and wrong.

A version of Aristotle's virtue theory was also mentioned, though of course it wasn't named as such. It claimed that rather than trying to find a set of rules for how to act morally, the focus should instead be on improving the individual. By being a virtuous person, good moral judgments would automatically follow. The obvious problem here was that virtues weren't clearly defined. Courageous, but not reckless; generous, but not to the point of making yourself destitute; helpful, but not overbearing. Working yourself hard, but not to the point of burning yourself out.

Again, this reinforced the idea that she needed to listen to her own heart, tempered by her head. Helena did consider herself to be virtuous person. Such a claim sounded arrogant, even in her head, but her true name didn't allow such humility anymore. And she wanted to be a hero. How much more virtuous could you get?

The book only briefly talked about the concept of morality emerging from some divine authority, and it was clear that author considered it barely worth mentioning. First because the existence of a divine authority was unsure; second because there was no fool proof way to discover the wishes of a divine authority even if it existed. And lastly, even if the will of a divine authority was known, that still wouldn't prove anything. If a king were to declare the mutilation of children to be a good thing, would it be so? Most would say no. Why would it be any different if a god declared it?

There were some references to other works that went deeper into the idea of divine commands, but Helena didn't feel inclined to look those up. She didn't need convincing that any authority, even a divine one, could declare what was right or wrong to her. Even if a god were to appear before her and lecture her, she'd still demand some reason why his opinion was more important than everyone else's, along with a host of other questions.

The next big topic on her reading list considered the concept of justice. She had begun reading the introduction of the topic when she heard the clanging sound of a bell. Guessing the purpose of the bell, Helena went to see if anybody was at the bottom/front door of their home.

When Helena opened the door, she found herself looking down on Arya's face. It was strange greeting somebody in this vertical manner, but the elf made it look perfectly normal.

Arya greeted her in the traditional elven manner, and Helena returned it. That was going to get old in a hurry. "Well done, but don't strain yourself, Helena. I'd prefer you tried to act natural around me, if only in private." Now that the traditional phrases were behind them, Arya reverted back to normal English. Helena was tempted to respond in kind, but the choice was taken out of her hands.

"Is that Arya?" Eragon asked, in elvish, as he came through the slide door.

"Yes," Helena said, also in elvish, as she offered a hand for the elf to climb up. Arya probably could have lifted herself up easier under her own power, but well. . . politeness was thing.

"Hello to you to, Eragon. I'd take your studies have begun?" Both Riders answered in the affirmative, and after another question from Arya, explained why they were both speaking Elvish.

"An excellent idea. It is more appropriate for you to speak thusly while among my people and they will think more highly of you for it."

"It has been a struggle," Helena admitted.

"I will try to speak slowly and clearly," Arya assured. "Am I disturbing you? I don't want to distract you, but if you can spare two hours, I thought I could show you around Ellesméra."

This was why you never procrastinate on work. It made sure that when an opportunity like this came, you'd have the time for it.

"I think we'll manage," Helena said.

"I still have a little bit of work to do," Eragon said. "But I think a walk would do me some good, and I was about to take a small break anyway."

"And where are Saphira and Godric?"

"They will likely join us when their admirers are finished with them," Eragon said. His eyes glazed over, indicating mental communication message from Saphira. "Never mind. It appears they'd rather leave a portrait unfinished rather than miss this."

"I suppose I should feel honoured," Arya said, smiling. Actually smiling. Helena couldn't recall seeing the elven princess so carefree before. This was reinforced by the casual dress she wore. A red trimmed kirtle with black threads forming intricate designs. It bore an interesting resemblance to her mother's garments. Helena doubted that was accidental. The headband she always wore was gone too, allowing her hair to slow freely across her shoulders. "You can tell them not to move. We will probably be heading in their direction."

"I doubt you can show us all of Ellesméra in just one evening though," Helena said. Ellesméra may not be as densely populated as human cities, but it was far more spread out. It would take several hours just to walk from one end to the other.

"No, and I couldn't even if I had the time. I've been gone for too long, and things may have changed in some way. But I think I know which locations you will find the most interesting, and I thought you'd appreciate having a friend show you around." Arya's lips drew in a thin line at the thought that they would turn her down. A thin line, like a frown. That was what it was. It couldn't be a pout. Arya simply _did not_ pout.

"We do! We do!" Helena was quick to say. With a casual gesture from her the room tidied itself up. "Where are we going?"

Something in Arya's eyes made Helena think that the almost accusatory statement was on purpose and had the desired effect. "I intend for us to visit listaggja, a place where we gather to practice and show of our crafts and abilities. It is a large part of our culture, and one I believe we are rightfully proud of."

"Sounds interesting," Eragon said. "The dwarves also had many works of art that surpassed anything I had ever seen in the human lands."

"I don't recommend comparing the works of the dwarves to what we do, unless you want an hour long lecture on how we are better at everything they do," Arya said wryly. "We can be vain, and as I said, prideful at times, though as you will soon discover, not without reason."

And so they set out. Winter may have passed, but the days were still short, and so the sun was already setting despite the relatively early hour. At one point during their walk the Lanterns that hung from tree branches lit up all at once. They were similar to those the dwarves used.

"Actually, they are similar to what we used. The spells we used to create them were gifted to them by us a long time ago," Arya said when Eragon asked about them. "May I ask about your training with Osthato Chetowä?"

 _Osthato Chetowä_ , Helena knew, was one of Oromis's titles. It translated to 'Morning Sage'.

"His existence is a blessing for us. There is much he has to teach us. Too much actually, for the time we have," Eragon said.

"I am glad we came here," Helena said. Being restricted to talking in elvish, she preferred to keep her sentences short whenever possible.

"Has he been able to help you use your Rider-given powers?" Arya asked.

"He has."

"My mother will be relieved to hear it."

"Have you two reconciled?" Eragon asked.

Arya's smile dimmed slightly but didn't disappear. Helena wondered if Eragon just didn't realize some of his questions were indecently personal, whether he didn't care if they were, or whether he thought powering through the awkwardness would always be worth it.

"I didn't have much of a choice, but . . ." Arya paused and looked to be considering her words carefully. "It has been good."

The short answer was an obvious sign that she didn't want to talk extensively about the subject, and Eragon seemed catch up on that since he didn't press. "You obviously enjoy being home again."

"The frantic pace of your world caused me to forget that mine is a lot slower to change. I wasn't sure it would still feel like home, but it hasn't changed all that much."

"You are lucky then. I scryed on Carvehall not long before you showed up and it looks like everybody is in an uproar about something. Even I realize that I am likely responsible for it."

"'Even I'," Helena repeated with a frown "Please stop that. You are at least as smart as me; smarter even."

"Saphira keeps telling the same thing."

"Then perhaps you should listen to her. Nobody knows your worth better than her."

"Indeed," Arya chimed in. "You were not chosen to be a Rider by accident. I have never duelled a human better with a sword than you. You work hard, and you pick up new skills fast. I have no idea where your low self-esteem comes from, but it has no basis in reality."

"It has some basis in reality," Eragon said and then proceeded to tell of the 'blessing' he gave to a child back Tronjheim.

"Oh sweet mercy, no," Arya said as she rubbed her temple.

"Eragon is going to do everything in his power to help that girl," Helena said heatedly. "I know he will. Regardless of that, you are too hard on yourself."

"Oromis is always telling us to be critical of ourselves," Eragon pointed out.

"There is a difference between that and underestimating yourself."

"When you are the only person that thinks you aren't good enough, maybe that is enough to doubt your own doubts," Arya said.

"I guess I just feel like I haven't accomplished all that much," Eragon said with a sigh. "When I slay a Shade or some other great deed, then I will stop feeling like this. But I appreciate the sentiment. Thank you."

While a large part of Helena really wanted Eragon to feel better and did think he was being too hard on himself, that sense of responsibility that lied at the source of it all was one of the things she liked most about him. She'd settle for trying to make sure he didn't get too morose until he proved himself to himself. She was his girlfriend after all. Surely she could do that much?

There was an uncomfortable silence for the next ten seconds it took for Helena to come up with another topic of conversation. "So Arya, is it normal for elves to work this late?"

"I don't think the term 'working' has the same meaning here as you are used to."

"What do you mean?" Eragon asked.

"Because of our great magical skills, we don't really need to 'work' very hard for our survival. We have as much leisure time as we want. What we consider working is what you would consider a pastime. We strive because we want, not because we must. Why would we restrict that to a set time in the day? Besides, there is certain beauty to the night, isn't there?"

Helena was forced to ask after the meaning of several of the elvish words used before she understood all that.

"That sounds a little like your people," Eragon said to Helena.

"I guess it does at that." The part about not truly _needing_ work for their survival anyway. Her people did still have a traditional concept of 'work'. Maybe it was just the cultural bleed-over from the muggle world, or perhaps it aided in the social stability in some way. It was yet another thing Helena hadn't really thought about while she had been a part of that world.

The next few minutes were another exercise in Helena's mastery over the elvish language as Arya quizzed her on 'her people'. Helena was grateful it wouldn't last long. She knew it wouldn't last long because her sense of Godric's location informed her that they were nearly at their destination which would hopeful distract the elf.

They arrived at where the dragons were posing, and Helena was surprised to be surprised. Because of their connection, it was rare for her to unaware of something happening to and around Godic. She knew from her draconic partner that some elves had asked to paint them, but she had expected several individual elves making their separate portraits or sketches. Instead, there was one canvas that was large enough to fit both Godric and Saphira's likeness in their real size. Several ladders had been set up so that over eight different elves could work on the painting at once.

"Well that's impressive," Eragon said.

"In many ways," Helena agreed. "They did that in two hours?" It was already mostly finished. The elves had opted for a highly stylized version for the portrait. Using light, shadows, sharp angles, and bright colours to enhance beauty to something that couldn't exist in reality.

"This is merely a rough first attempt, Silver Hand," One of the elves, male with long green hair, said from his position at the top right corner of the canvas. He was still quite some distance away and Helena hadn't raised her voice, but he obviously had no problem hearing them. "Ones first attempt at something is always rife with flaws. We will look at this, see what can be improved, and try again."

 _'Wait, we have to sit here and do nothing multiple times? I thought we were almost done!'_ Saphira projected her mental voice so that all could hear. She also didn't bother to use elvish in her annoyed state.

Both dragons were posing rather impressively. Their heads were raised regally with their wings spread slightly. Still, from what Helena could read of their expressions – and she had gotten quite good at reading dragons – Saphira looked exasperated while Godric still looked to be enjoying the attention. At least at first. At the mention he was expected to do this more than once he too looked annoyed.

"A thousand pardons, Saphira Bjartskular," While the elf initially spoke elvish, he changed it to suit Saphira's preference. "We do not wish to wear out our welcome. If you do not wish to grace our presence with your beauty again, then we will content ourselves with what we have here. This work contains many of our failings, but your inherent radiance will still shine through and turn this artwork into something worthy of a king's ransom."

Saphira snorted. _'We will think on whether to give you another chance.'_

"We can ask for nothing more." All the elves lowered their heads in respect and perfect unison. "They sure know how to. . . sweet-talk them, don't they?" Helena whispered, hoping that only Eragon and Arya could hear her. She had no good elvish analogy for sweet-talking, so that part was spoken in English.

"Most elves are old enough to have known dragons, and their legendary pride," Arya said, sounding amused. She also suggested a translation for the part Helena spoke in English.

Eragon and Helena went and rejoined their partners.

'You should have been here with me. I admit I liked being thought of as the most important part of our duo,' Helena could clearly feel Godric's shame at admitting this. She didn't think it was such a shameful thing after being her second for so long. 'But these elves are all fools if they think my glory is complete without you besides me.'

'You'd choose posing with me over posing with Saphira?' Helena teased.

'Yes,' Godric said seriously. 'No matter what happens between me and Saphira, nothing will ever matter more to me than you.'

Helena had to pause and think of a fitting reply. 'And your place in my heart is more secure than Eragon's could ever be.'

It was clear Godric could sense her troubled feelings at the admission and felt amused by it. 'There is no need for that, Helena. Eragon and I are not competing; no more than you and Saphira are. Eragon takes up a very different place in your heart than I do. He makes you happy, and that's all that matters.'

'Thank you, though I hope you will find some happiness that isn't directly tied to me. And they should just paint all four of us together. That's the full team.'

Arya went and exchanged some quick words with another group of elves before re-joining them. "Many are eager to show off their skills to you, but I'm afraid you will have to wait until you see the best of the best. Many are saving that for the blood-oath celebration."

"I take it that blood-oath refers to the pact they have with the dragons?" Eragon guessed.

"That, and the end of the war that preceded it. We remember what we gained and nearly lost, and so it is a time to be grateful. We sing and dance, and present various works of significance to each other. Everyone who attends is supposed to bring something to add, something created through their own personal skill. You too actually."

"We are expected to create something?" Eragon asked.

"Yes. I am sure the Morning Sage will speak of it to you eventually. But the sooner you start thinking about something you can present at the celebration, the better. Maybe something you see here can give you some inspiration."

 _'So now I need to spend time making a piece of art to sit and stand next to all these masterworks, and somehow not embarrass myself. Lovely.'_ She really didn't need this right now.

"I have no great skills beyond magic," Helena confessed. "And I doubt I will have time to learn something new just for this amidst everything else."

"Using magic to make something is. . . frowned upon, but it would be accepted so long as it took a great deal of effort, creativity, and heart to make."

 _Perhaps not so impossible, after all,_ Helena thought to herself.

The tour Arya gave them was interesting. When Arya said she was going to show elven art, Helena had only been expecting things like paintings, sculptures, building maybe. Most of them having a nature motive of some sort. All of it being displayed outdoors.

Nothing could be further from the truth.

Apparently not all of the elven buildings were completely made out of living wood. Many of the buildings here in this part of Ellesméra were made out of stone, or even something resembling metal, and were so varied in style that they served as its own work of art. Arya explained that keeping the interior of these houses sterile made it easier to preserve the works within, hence why they didn't use living wood. They not only showed them what Helena traditionally considered art, but also books, tools, food and songs. Skills like vocal tones, dancing, even comedy. And the motifs were as varied. Humans, Dwarves, Elves, Urgals, animals, and things that were purely imaginary were included. It quickly became clear to Helena that they truly wouldn't be able to see even a small fraction of what was available. They didn't even 'see' stuff so much as Arya showed them that it existed. Seeing everything was no more possible than deciding to read every single book ever written on Earth. Well. . . ignoring their extended lifespans.

"Of course we can't see everything," Arya said when Eragon brought it up. "But this gives you a good idea of what we are like as a people. Over a millennia worth of culture is gathered here in Ellesméra. Maybe you could return after the war is over. There is so much to see and experience."

"I would like that. But I suspect we will be busy even after Galbatorix is defeated. I will try though," Eragon said. Helena agreed that that would be nice.

Arya nodded. "There is one more thing I want to show you. Some _one_ actually. Rhunön, the best blacksmith currently alive in Alagaesia, who made all the Rider swords, including your _Zar_ _'_ _roc_."

Arya started to lead them through a thick dogwood. It seemed this Rhunön preferred to live farther apart from everyone than most. "You do not need to watch your manners as closely as with other elves. Stay respectful, of course, but she doesn't stand on ceremony. She is also very old, even by our standards. She was alive at the time the pack between the dragons was made."

"That would make her two and half millennia old," Eragon said. Helena found that age as mindboggling as Eragon's voice indicated he did.

"Indeed. She is one of the few that was alive during Du Fyrn Skulblaka and remembered a time before we became immortal. Under normal circumstances I would ask her to make a Rider Weapon for Helena, as the staff she uses now can't really compare, but Rhunön has vowed never to make another instrument of death again."

"That's alright. I don't think I need something like that," Helena said.

"Doesn't she want to contribute in the war?" Eragon asked. "Surely, a blacksmith of her skill could help our side."

"Is she a. . . ." Not knowing the word in elvish, Helena reverted to English. "Pacifist? Is that why she doesn't want to make weapons."

"There is no equivalent word for 'pacifist' in the Ancient Language. You will have to just describe the term as 'someone that doesn't believe in violence'. And no, that is not the reason. The reason is that she can't trust that the weapons she makes will always be wielded by people with good intentions. Rhunön considers herself responsible for every deed her blades have accomplished, both good and evil."

"That's. . ." Helena was about to say stupid but caught herself. "That seems strange to me. If you stab someone with a knife, then you are responsible for it, not the one who made the knife."

"But if you are someone who produces poisons, and gives those to whomever you please, would you not be partly responsible for what they do with it?" Arya argued. "That is an example I heard Rhunön herself use. Few people agree with her reasoning, but ever since Galbatorix and the Forsworn have turned her creations against us, she has sworn to never make another instrument of death again. And we don't have the right to force the issue."

Arya lead them towards a large forge, protected from the elements only by a collection of trees that had grown together to serve as a sort of roof. Finely made tools and pieces of armour hung from metal hangers that were attached to the tree branches.

A woman that Helena presumed was Rhunön was shaving a ring by holding it against a fast spinning rotator of sorts. She indeed looked older than any elf Helena had ever seen. She had wrinkles running down her face for one, something Helena had never seen before on her kind. Another odd thing was how she hadn't yet noticed their approach. Elves had always had superb situational awareness. Perhaps she was simply that focused on her work?

Arya waited for what felt like full minute before speaking. "Atra esterní ono thelduin."

If Helena hadn't already suspected Rhunön wasn't aware of their presence, the way she jerked proved it.

"Rhunön-elda, I have–" Whatever sentence Arya was going to say would remain unfinished.

The moment Rhunön's eyes fell on Eragon they flashed angrily and she jumped to her feet. "You!' She exclaimed. Within seconds she had stormed her way up to Eragon who had made several steps backwards until he had his back to a tree and had a finger poking him in the chest. "You already have a sword!" It was spoken like an accusation.

"Ehm, yes?" Eragon squeaked.

Saphira, who along with Godric had been had been following a few paces behind the biped members of their group, let loose a soft growl.

Rhunön looked at Saphira and gritted her teeth. "I am not going to harm him, but I don't see why I should make your Rider a blade."

Helena gave Arya a baffled look which she returned. " Rhunön-elda, Eragon already has a sword."

"Precisely! I heard that he was in possession of Za'roc, and those rumours are true." Rhunön motioned towards the sheathed blade that hung at Eragon's side. "So I see no reason why you would need another."

"I don't," Eragon said, still somewhat high pitched. "Za'roc is a fine blade, despite its history, and has served me well. I am not asking you to make me a sword. If anything, you should be making one for Helena."

Rhunön clicked her tongue. "Then why did that blasted bird Blagden tell me that we are all doomed unless I forge Eragon a weapon?"

"Blagden?" Arya repeated. "Did he give you some sort of foretelling?"

"Yes," Rhunön said, turning to look at the elven princess, though she still had a finger poking Eragon in the chest. "it sounded like a real prophecy, although a lot less cryptic than those usually are. I was told, in no uncertain terms, that we were all doomed unless I forge Eragon here a sword."

"That's hardly my fault, is it?" Eragon said.

"I suppose it isn't," Rhunön admitted grudgingly. "I just don't see why you would need another blade so much that would renege on my oath."

"I don't know. Could Blagden have been mistaken?" Eragon suggested uncertainly.

"What exactly did Blagden say?" Arya asked.

Rhunön finally took a few steps back from Eragon. "When love lies empty, and courage replaces wisdom, the world will be born anew in fire. A fire of cleansing, or of hate.  
At that time of hopelessness and valour a new starblade forged by you will be required for a chance to decide our fate. Replacing Misery will be essential if the Rider of blue is to reach his potential."

"You are right, that is more straightforward than prophecies usually are," Arya mumbled to herself.

"That was straightforward?" Eragon asked with a raised eyebrow.

"It gave pretty clear instructions for what you need to do to get a good outcome. I'd say that's very useful compared to any other prediction I have ever heard off," Helena spoke up for the first time. Unlike everybody else present, she reverted to English. Helena could barely follow the elvish conversation, so she preferred to keep her mouth shut instead of speaking, but this was too important for a self-imposed language barrier to interfere. What she needed to say next was easy enough to say in elvish, however. "Will you help us then?" she asked Rhunön.

"I don't have a choice do I?" Rhunön sounded incredibly bitter about it. "Blagden's abilities have been demonstrated in the past, and my own reservations are insignificant compared to the doom of us all."

"So you will make me a new sword?" Eragon asked, still sounding somewhat off balance.

"It's not that simple. My oath, that can be worked around, but I just don't have the materials. That part about a 'starblade' wasn't metaphorical. The material from the Rider blades isn't normal metal. It comes from a shooting star that landed in Du Weldenvarden over two thousand years ago. I found out that the metal it was made out of had unique properties and named it Brightsteel."

"Let me guess. You don't have any Brightsteel." Helena said wryly and mentally preparing herself for a search quest.

"You're right. The last deposit of Brightsteel in Du Weldenvarden took me twenty-four years to find. I have wondered far and wide since then but have found not a single speck of Brightsteel anymore."

A light of understanding sparkled within Eragon's eyes. "So if we can find some new Brightsteel for you, will you make me this special sword?"

"I put everything I have in my creations. Every single one of the Riders' swords are as perfect as I could make them. So I still don't see why a new one would make a huge difference over Za'roc. But yes. If you can find me some more Brightsteel I will consider it. But as I said, I already searched all of Du Weldenvarden. The chance that you will stumble across any is almost non-existent. And unless I am mistaken, you don't have the time to spend half of it in a fruitless search."

"I understand," Eragon said, seeming not all deterred. "Thank you for your time, and your willingness to help." He turned towards Arya. "I think we are done here for the moment."

Arya gave Eragon a curious look, bowed to Rhunön, and then escorted them away.

"You already have an idea of where to look, don't you?" Arya said once they were out of earshot.

"Helena, do you remember _Solembum's message?" Eragon asked in leu of answering Arya._

 _Helena's eyes widened slightly. "Listen closely and I will tell you two things. When the time comes and you need a weapon, look under the roots of the Menoa tree. Then, when all seems lost and your power is insufficient, go to the Rock of Kuthian and speak your name to open the Vault of Souls," she recited from memory. "You believe we can find Brightsteel under the roots of the Menoa tree?"_

 _"It makes sense doesn't it?" Eragon asked rhetorically. Helena agreed._

 _"Let us hope it is as easy as you think it is," Arya cautioned. "The roots of the Menoa tree grow far and deep. And you can't use magic to find out where it can be found because there is no word in the language of power for Brightsteel. The material hadn't been discovered when the language was created."_

 _"Perhaps, but I have to find it, no matter how hard it is. You heard from_

Rhunön what Blagden said. I will need this new weapon if I am to make a difference in the coming war."

"I agree that you need to try, but be cautious. And whatever you do, don't damage the Menoa tree in your search." Arya warned. "Perhaps ask your masters for advice."

"We will, but I want to look at it all the same. It's on the way back home, isn't it?"

"It's roughly in the same direction, yes, and would only take a small detour." Arya said, tilting her head a little to look at their new destination. Being almost as large as a Hogwarts Castle, the Menoa tree served as an excellent way to orient oneself.

Knowing where to go, Eragon took the lead, walking with huge strides.

'Aren't you getting a little too excited?' Godric asked, and it sounded like a reprimand.

'All these predictions make it feel like fate itself is on our side,' Eragon said. 'There wouldn't be these hints in a prophecy of a way to win, if there truly wasn't a way for us to win, right?'

'Yes, but aren't you ignoring another part of the raven's words? 'When love lies empty'. It is yet another sign that Helena is in danger. Why am I the only one concerned about that?'

'It isn't like I am not concerned,' Eragon said.

'That part is a little vague,' Helena thought to the others. 'We don't know if that 'love' pertains to either Eragon or me. Nor that it is supposed to reference some injury to someone. Maybe it just means that a relationship falls apart, which might not even be permanent, even if that's what it means. And even if it is another premonition of my doom, it isn't like we can do anything about it. We have been over this before.'

'While I hate the thought, if the choice is between you dying or leaving me, that's not really a choice is it?' Eragon said, ignoring the possibility that the mentioned 'love' could refer to anything else than their relationship. Helena admitted to herself that the chance of the 'love' referring to anything but theirs was little more than wishful thinking. Not to mention that it could easily be referring to the same event that Eragon dreamt of back in Tarnag.

"Just so long as you don't break up with me to intentionally try to set up the conditions for this prediction," Helena said warningly. "That's not how these things work."

"While you shouldn't ignore this lead, prophecies are a poor guide. Don't try to rely on them too much," Arya added. "If it wasn't for the Werecat's words, I'd ignore it altogether. And that's precisely because his words were not a prophecy, but a message left behind for the next generation of Riders."

Helena could tell that Godric still wasn't happy that they weren't more concerned with the possibility of harm to herself, regardless of whether they could something about it. There really was nothing to do about it though, and Godric knew that as well. Helena let it go because she knew that concern for a loved one didn't need to be useful or rational. She'd feel the same if there was some hint of future harm to Godric.

They encountered the first roots of the tree well before they reached it. As Arya hinted at, its roots stretched farther than the tree was tall. The trunk was almost a hundred yards across and was surrounded by a myriad of thick roots making the centre hard to access.

"So here we are," Arya said as she hopped up the roots to reach the base. Both human Riders got dirty climbing after her. "Even if you don't find anything, this is still worth seeing. We will hold the blood oath celebration under her shadow." She said while looking up at the leaves above.

Eragon, after catching his balance, placed his hand on the trunk and briefly closed his eyes for a few seconds. "It's alive," he said a few seconds later, and before anybody could respond he said. "I mean it's aware."

"Of course it is. The Menoa tree is the center of Du Weldenvarden and may very well be the oldest living thing in this forest, and more. There is a famous story attached to it. I am no bard, but I will tell it if you wish?"

"Please."

"Very well, once, long before our war with dragons and before we became immortal, and we were almost as numerous as the you humans are now, there lived a woman named Linnëa. Linnëa was old by the standards of those times and had lived her life without the comforts of love, children of her own, or even friendship. Not out of choice, but because it was simply who she was. She had no talent when it came to talking to other people, and on those rare occasions when she did, she'd grow nervous or say something she would later regret. But she did have an incredible talent for singing to plants, and so they became the closest friends she'd ever known. That was until she met a young man who charmed her with words of love and affection. Until then, Linnëa had lived a simple life that she was, if not completely happy with, at least in peace with. Yet a part of her had always dreamed to be like other people. To interact with them in the way that came so naturally to others. This young man didn't seem to care for her odd quirks. He didn't seem to care that she rarely spoke for he spoke enough for the both of them, and she loved to simply listen. And for a time, they were happy."

"But only for a time. Eventually the young man decided they were too different, both in age and in mind. He knew that Linnëa loved him, and had grown dependent upon him. He had become her entire world, and he knew she'd do everything he asked of her. And this scared him, for he did not love her as deeply. 'Why should I be responsible for her? We are both adults, and she is older than me. She should be able to take of herself', he told himself. And so one day Linnëa woke up to find her love had vanished with nothing but a note left behind asking her not to seek him out.'

"But Linnëa could not let him be. The young man had given her a taste of the fullness of life, and she could not go back to the life she had before him. And so she searched, and searched, and when she found him she swore she would do whatever she had to, to be together again. To be that happy again."

"Two months later she found him. Found him in the arms of another woman. Linnëa didn't care and begged the young man on the spot to take her back, saying she would do whatever he wanted to, but the young man denied having ever known Linnëa."

"And so Linnëa killed him."

Helena felt a chill. The way Arya delivered that last line so suddenly and matter-of-factly, like it was only natural. . . it was an effective way to introduce such a twist, she would admit.

"Linnëa was apprehended and sentenced to prison. She did not put up any defence. Linnëa knew that what she had done was evil. She knew that no matter what happened, she would never be able to return to her previous existence. So when she was set free many years later she went to the oldest tree in Du Weldenvarden, pressed herself against it, and sang herself into the tree, abandoning all allegiance to her own race. For three days and three nights she sang, and when the sun rose on the fourth day, she had become one with her beloved plants. The only beings in this word who she could truly call friend."

When the tale, ended Eragon looked nervously at the giant tree. "You mean to say that this woman is the tree?"

"No. The Menoa tree, even back then, was an existence much greater than what Linnëa was. It would be more true to say that Linnëa sacrificed herself and all that she gave of herself, the tree gained. A small memory of Linnëa's may yet linger somewhere within, but it is likely no more than a small drop of blood dropped in a vast river."

Eragon's posture relaxed.

"Who do you think was to blame for the tragedy? Linnëa or the young man?" Arya asked.

"I think that she was broken. I can't blame the young man for leaving if he didn't love her, and I think Linnëa overreacted." Eragon said.

"Then you think Linnëa was to blame?" Arya pressed.

"It's a tragedy," Eragon said. "But if I had to choose, yes. Though I have a hard time hating her."

"I think someone should have helped her," Helena said, in English because this again felt like something important enough to speak in a way that felt the most natural to her. Not to mention this was too difficult for her to say in elvish. "Linnëa wasn't evil. If enough people reached out to her, I am sure she could have become a great person. She should not have killed the young man, but I won't lay blame at her feet. She was simply mad with grief and loss. I think Linnëa could have been saved if only someone cared enough to try."

"So you would blame the world itself?" Arya asked.

"I regret that nobody tried to help her a lot more than I blame Linnëa for what she did." Helena said.

'I on the other hand am not even sure that I would condemn what Linnëa ended up doing,' Godric said to the surprise of everyone. Both for the fact he had spoken up at all as for the opinion that was offered. 'It all depends on whether she regretted her actions.'

'Arya said that Linnëa knew what she did was evil,' Helena tried to point out, curious as her partner's reasoning. Godric normally wasn't one for deep philosophical questions.

'That doesn't mean she regretted her actions. Let's say the Varden had killed you in their fear and suspicion. I would have spent my life inflicting as much pain and suffering upon them as I could. I would know that my actions were evil. I would know that I would be dooming my own race and guarentee Galbatorix's victory. But I would not regret my actions. None but we ourselves can determine what something is worth to us. Linnëa didn't run, and she accepted the consequences of her actions. If she decided that the young man's death was worth more than her own life, then who are we to say her decision was wrong?'

'I don't think her life improved by becoming a murderer,' Helena argued.

'I don't think her own life mattered at all to her at that point. And whether it could improve or not is up for debate. Yes, someone could help her, but nobody did. You should know how important love can be, and Linnëa grew up without it. Why should she assume she would gain it again after having lost it, given her history? The young man may not have meant to, but he showed her a brighter life and then he took it away. None but Linnëa can judge the severity of that sin, or what response it merits.'

There was a silence and everybody turned to Saphira, the only who had yet to offer an opinion. 'She was crazy and weak,' Saphira said bluntly. 'I don't believe she was in a right mind to decide anything. Helena is partly right. Someone could have helped her, but nobody did, so it's a moot point. Nor do I think it was this young man's responsibility to keep looking after her, or to help her. Or anyone's responsibility, really. I think I will agree with Eragon on this. I do blame Linnëa. She should have had the strength to simply move on, and not take her own pain out on the young man.'

"Harsh," Helena commented with pursed lips. "Not everyone can be a strong as you, Saphira."

Saphira gave the mental equivalent of a shrug. 'She didn't need to be. In any case, she had a weak mind and spirit, and it dammed her. That's all there is to it.'

 _Dragons,_ Helena thought with a sigh. Despite their differences, Saphira and Godric both gave thoughts that Helena thought were very reminiscent of their race. She couldn't explain why exactly, but it felt like a very primal way of thinking.

"Do you think we could simply ask the tree to give us the Brightsteel," Eragon asked, getting back to the reason why they came here.

Arya answered. "Yes, but I don't know whether the Menoa tree will care. You must have noticed when you touched its conscience, right? She only cares for what grows and flourishes within the forest. This war will seem unimportant to her."

"But the elves will be affected, and it is through your race's efforts that Du Weldenvarden is as rich as it is. Wouldn't that mean anything to it– her."

"Maybe," Arya sighed. "I wish we had gotten here a few weeks earlier during the Dagshelgr." Helena remembered Dagshelgr as the celebration that had strengthened the primal instincts of her Husky form. "That time would have been ideal to communicate with the Menoa tree."

"You can't do it now?" Eragon asked.

"I will ask mother, and you can ask your teachers. And they in turn will ask other who are even more knowledgeable in such matters. Try to delegate this task, Eragon. You have enough to deal with as it is."

That made a great deal of sense, but Helena doubted they could afford not to get involved at some point. When does a problem like this ever get solved by others?

Eragon placed his hand at the large root they were standing on as if he would be able to feel the metal through the wood. He sighed. "You're right. Let's just go home." He looked from Saphira to Arya. "I think I will save time by flying with Saphira, if you don't mind." Helena quickly stated she'd do the same with Godric.

"That's fine, but don't damage the roots when you launch yourself off the ground," Arya told both dragons. "If there is anything we elves hold sacred, it is this tree, so be very careful if you do go digging through her roots."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

There were still a few chapters of her books that she planned to read before the day was over, but there was something else she needed to do first.

"Are you sure about this?" Eragon asked who stood next to her in the bathroom. "I still think we should ask Oromis if it's safe."

"If it doesn't work, it will just show nothing." Brom had been clear that this spell didn't drain the user empty if the target was protected somehow.

Eragon didn't look reassured. "Alright, but be careful."

Helena nodded and raised her hand over the large bathroom mirror, briefly focused on her true name to make it easier to tap into her life energies, and thought of Hermione. "Draumr kópa."

Immediately she could feel her vitality draining from her body. Helena didn't know how much energy scrying usually costs, but from Eragon she always got the impression it wasn't all that much. Not as mush as she guessed she was spending.

The mirror looked like a window into a thick black swirling mist. The mist seemed to gradually grow thinner so she kept up the spell, despite her rapidly dwindling reserves. She knew she'd be able to turn it off if it became a danger. She had practiced turning it off once by scrying Eragon as he waited in the living room.

Eventually the mist grew thin enough that she could see a vague outline of a person who might be her old friend. Helena kept up the spell for two more minutes, but the vision didn't become any clearer than that.

With mixed emotions, she turned off her spell, and then only because Godric told her to do so. A sudden feeling off faintness overcame her and she wobbled on her feet for a few second before falling backwards.

Eragon managed to catch her midfall. "I told you to be careful." He hissed softly, yet harshly.

"I'm alive, aren't I?" she said with a small smile.

Eragon growled and threw her arm around his shoulder before guiding her to their dinner table in the next room. "You are going to put some food into you," he ordered.

Helena hummed in agreement as she was more or less dragged forward.

Eragon slowly lowered her into a chair. "Stay right here." He said before gathering some preserved food from the larder.

Helena didn't feel particularly hungry, and Godric was already feeding his own energy into her to speed up her recovery, but it felt nice to see Eragon fuss over her.

A minute later a collection of prickled fruit and vegetables were laid out in front of her. "Eat." He ordered again.

Obeying, Helena started to gnaw on a small carrot.

"You can't keep trying that, just to get a glimpse." Eragon said, careful like he feared the words might break her.

"I know, but what's important is that it didn't show nothing." However small a glimpse it may have been, this served as proof that this world wasn't completely cut off from her old one. Using any magic to interact with it was costly, but not impossible. If it was just a matter of power, then she just needed to gather enough of it.

Eragon made a pained expression. "I knew how important this was for you, so I didn't stop it, but no more okay," it was more of a demand than a question. "However important this is, it isn't worth your life."

"I am not risking my life, Eragon. Even that just now wasn't in any danger of killing me. Godric was keeping watch and was ready to lend me his strength if it became too dangerous. Really, you're being really sweet, but I'm fine. And I am going to be fine."

"Nobody has ever tried to scry across dimensions before, so we didn't know for sure if it was safe," Eragon argued, though her words seemed to have placated him. "We should have asked Oromis and Glaedr."

"They couldn't know if the scrying would be more difficult any more than we, and they wouldn't be able to test it. You can't scry things you have never seen before, so only I could do this. I'm fine Eragon, and I won't try to push my luck."

"Alright then," Eragon said with a tone of resignation. "I know you think you know what you're doing, but I feel it is my solemn duty to worry about you." He came over, lowered himself to her level, and planted a kiss on her lips. "I'll be back there if you need me," motioning with his head to their bedrooms."

"Love you!" she called after him, still feeling giddy from the kiss and the words of affection.

"Same," came his short smiling reply with just a hint of smugness as he closed the door behind him.

Helena arched her back in a stretch before summoning her books back to her side. She started back where she left off before heading out with Arya. An introduction on the concept of Justice.

The book focused on the different possible interpretations of Justice and how it differs from how the law may claim to achieve it. You could view Justice as a sort of recompense for damages done, or based on how evil a person needs to be to perform a certain act.

A good illustrative example would be two blindfolded men walking unto a street and throwing a rock at random. One rock hits a person over the head, the other hits nothing but a stone wall. Only one causes damage, so in the Justice as recompense view, only one should be punished. Yet it was pure chance that one rock hit someone and another didn't. Should justice be that heavily dependent on pure luck? Both men knew that what they did was dangerous. In a view of justice as a judgment of character, both men deserve equal punishment. In this view, attempted murder, and actual murder would merit the same reprisal.

The question of 'for whose sake is justice demanded' was also brought up. Is it the state or the victim who gets the final say? Again, the concept of a divine source was briefly mentioned, but only to say it didn't merit discussion. Again with a bunch of other authors and titles for whoever wanted to look into that more. Helena wasn't surprised at the dismissal because she had yet to find an elf who claimed to be in any way religious.

The statement 'the victim deserves justice' is popular among certain circles, but should the victim get a say? Should a person's punishment be based on the temperament of the victim? That would neither be fair recompense for damages done or be a judgment of the culprit's character. Again, this introduced a huge chance factor into the concept of Justice.

Should justice be fair? Most seem to think so. In that case it would follow that a victim can't have a say, but an objective judge has to make a decision.

The way justice is implemented by law might also have less to do with a higher ideal, but more as a deterrent. To deter behaviour a community wants to discourage.

Helena herself agreed with the opinion that justice should be fair, and thus should eliminate a 'chance' factor as much as possible. To be a true judgment of a person's character, not the damage they do. Or at least the character that a person's actions suggest. Helena knew that who a person was and who they showed themselves to be wasn't a perfect match, but it was close enough. Right?

While she saw that law was more often than not a deterrent rather than true justice, she wasn't cynical enough to believe it had to be that way. A system that promoted the good and discouraged the bad could be both effective deterrent while striving for an ideal.

 _Ideal_

Helena examined the word and its importance to her. An ideal was an ideal precisely because it was impossible. You could strive towards it, but never reach it. You could judge how close you got compared to something or someone else though. It was something she did with her wish to be a hero. A hero could also be viewed as an ideal. Or more accurately someone who strives for an ideal.

 _Actually no, that's not a hero, that's the definition of an idealist,_ Helena thought. _Something that also applies to me. I want to be an idealistic hero, more so than a pragmatic one._

There were still more points of view that the book presented, and one of them was in regards to the whole nature vs nurture question. That was actually not something she had heard of before, but she understood the gist with minimal explanation and the context of presentation. If you believe that who a person becomes is heavily dependent on their environment, then how can he be blamed for his actions. The obvious answer was simple practicality again, a deterrent. But Helena wanted more than that.

Not that she bought the idea that a person is completely shaped by their environment. In fact, Helena's mind instinctively shied away from the concept. It would a big hit against the idea that free will existed and that anything was truly our fault or success.

Oromis's lessons thus far had stressed that ideas like this should be rejected purely based on logic, not personal dislike or incredulity. Knowing her True Name helped her to spot her own biases, but that didn't guarantee that she could overcome them. She came up with arguments to support her position, sure, but she knew she was defending her opinions instead of trying to find the truth. Helena knew that some people held views so closely that they could never abandon them, no matter the arguments presented. She had always considered those people close-minded, but this was the first time she encountered such a thing within herself. Or at least the first time she identified it. She hoped it would allow her to be more understanding of the views others held sacred, but didn't believe herself. Only time would tell.

As for the arguments to defend her position. Well, Dumbledore had pointed out the similarities in upbringing between herself and Voldemort. Both magical orphans who grew up without love. Tom Riddle had been twisted, even as a child. She doubted that could all be contributed to his environment. He chose his path, as did she.

The next idea described in the book appealed to her a great deal more. It questioned the morality of the 'an eye for an eye' mentality that most associated with 'Justice'. Wouldn't it be 'just' to do the best you can for as many people as possible, regardless of who they are or what they did? Increase the amount of 'good' in the world, instead of equalling out the bad. In short, it advocated for the rehabilitation or re-education of criminals.

Helena admitted that the difference between the traditional view of justice and revenge was mostly a matter of connotation, not an actual difference. And most viewed 'revenge' as something one should rise above. Helena had never approved of Eragon's obsession with getting revenge for his uncle. It had been a while since Eragon mentioned his quest to kill the Ra'zac, but she doubted he had forgotten. Though the idea of trying to rehabilitate the Ra'zac seemed ridiculous, even to her. But if you could afford to show mercy, shouldn't you?

 _Yes, you should,_ Helena thought. _Especially if there is little risk to other possible victims in not doing so. If not, things swiftly become more complicated._ Like when she had prevented the Urgals from being wiped out.

She paused her reading to spend some pondering over that controversial decision again.

Ajihad hadn't been wrong when he said that letting them go could cause more of her allies to suffer in the future. But Helena hadn't been comfortable killing people based on a 'might'. Yet this latest bit of reading put that in perspective. If you couldn't punish people based on a 'might', then punishing someone for doing something bad because he 'might' do it again, well wasn't that similar?

 _The extremes are always bad_ , Helena thought. She had gotten the impression that trying to create iron-clad rules that lead to the best outcome in every single situation was an exercise in futility.

And would the final results of her decisions about the Urgals determine whether it was right or not? Helena was tempted to say no. After all, given an identical amount of information to go on, if you spare someone a hundred times, and only five times did it lead to something bad, was the option to spare wrong those five times, even if you hadn't had any more info to go on than the other ninety-five times? The rightness of a decision shouldn't be based on chance. Or even more obvious, if ten people buy a lottery ticket with the same odds of success, but only one got a price, that that make him a wise decisionmaker while the other nine were naïve fools? The answer, Helena thought, was no.

The last part of the chapter related to the practical applications of justice. How certain do you need to be that a person committed a crime before ascribing punishment. If the answer was, completely certain without any possible doubt, then nobody could ever be punished, ever. No matter how much compelling evidence of wrong doing there may be, there was always a small chance of a wrong conclusion, especially due to the existence of magic that can beguile the mind. The book depicted a graph with four categories. False positives, which meant a person was wrongly judged guilty. True positive, which meant a person was correctly judged guilty. False negative which meant a person was wrongly judged innocent. True negative which. . . well, you get the idea. If you make the requirements for a 'positive' more strict, the chance for false negatives increased. If you made the requirements more lax, the chance of false positive increased. The book asked Helena what margin of error was acceptable, and whether it differs depending on the severity of the crime.

 _A problem without solution,_ Helena immediately realized. _Depending on how large the margin of error was, the response should be adjusted._ This would complicate the 'innocent or guilty' system that she was familiar with. There would never be 'guilty' or 'innocent'. Just 'this likely to be innocent'. or 'this likely to be guilty'. It would all be incredibly muddy and complicated, but increasing the number of categories would surely increase the appropriateness of the responses? Of course, if you dispense with the 'eye for an eye' method, the chance of great injustices occurring immediately becomes smaller.

Such was Helena's opinion as a young woman who, by her own admission, was a complete novice in these matters. She had absolutely no illusions that her opinion was anything more than a laymen's thoughts. Beside, this seemed like the domain of statecraft. Something that didn't really appeal to her.

Helena stretched her back and groaned. Philosophy truly was nothing but questions without answers. It was early yet, but she already felt her bed calling to her. She blamed her stunt with the scrying for that. _Huh, if nothing else, this magical way of tiring myself will make it very easy if I ever have trouble falling asleep._

 _xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_

The sky wasn't quite as dark as she had grown used to when Helena woke up the next day. It was either a sign that she had slept long or that the days were finally growing longer again. Judging by how lively and well rested she felt, it was probably the former.

She noticed that Eragon's bed was empty, and she heard sounds from the next room, so she didn't bother to be quiet as she threw on the simplistic monk like clothes she had been told to wear and cleaned up her bed.

"Morning," Helena said with a smile as she slid open the door the dining room.

"Morning," Eragon said with a long drawn out yawn. "Sorry, I think might have woken you up."

Helena gave a shrug and sat herself down opposite Eragon, who had already set the table for them. A nice collection of juicy looking cakes sat in front of them. She picked one at random and held her nose close to it. "Apple flavour. It has been a while since I had these." Those had made regular occurrences at Hogwarts breakfasts. Though from what she could smell, it looked like each cake might have a different fruit worked into it.

"I have to say, even without meat, the elves know how make good food," Eragon said after he tasted one for himself. "I don't even know what this tastes like, but I like it."

"May I?" Helena asked. Eragon ripped off a small piece and handed it to her. "That tastes like a banana. A yellow fruit that's curved like so." She drew a small arc in the air with her hand. "Sometimes I do envy your isolated upbringing. You can experience something for the first time only once."

"That's one way to look at it," Eragon muttered.

They both knew that their guide would soon arrive to take them to their respective weapons training. Not enough time to do much of anything besides clean themselves up and make small conversation, so that's what they did for the next three quarters. Godric and Saphira were already gone to practice their fires as Glaedr had instructed.

All and all it was pleasantly peaceful way to begin the day.

When the bell finally rang, they were greeted by a male elf that Helena vaguely recalled having seen once during the celebration of their arrival. Helena had half expected their guide to be Arya again; no such luck apparently.

"Atra du evarínya ono varda, Däthedr-vodhr," he greeted politely and with the customary gestures.

Helena and Eragon both returned the greeting.

"If you are ready, please follow me," the elf said with a serene smile before descending back down the vertical stairs in a few seconds. Eragon and Helena needed considerably longer to make the climb. The elf was naturally too polite to comment on their difficulty and kept his smile.

The elf, who on the way introduced himself as Meiro, guided the both of them to a large practice field where Eragon was expected. Helena's destination was on the way so she was taken along.

The field was far from the where Arya had taken them the day before, both in distance and in temperament. An unforgiving air hung around the field with its storehouses made of metal, a rarity in the elven lands, and dark wooden demarcations. The elves who were here practicing with bows and spears looked equally dreary. There were only two elves practicing with a sword, and Meiro guided the Riders towards them. From the way the two sword wielding elves were sparring, Helena doubted that Eragon would have any more luck against them than he had against any other supernatural foe.

"I'll be fine," Eragon told her quietly when she expressed her worry for him. "It's better to test myself against foes that are beyond me, than against those who are below me."

Meiro guided Helena onward before Eragon's first fight against his new sparring partners began.

To Helena's relief, she was taken to a large indoors room with one single other elf along with another pleasant surprise.

"Orik," she greeted the dwarf with a smile, which he returned. She had expected and hoped for something like this ever since Oromis had said she'd be better off against 'normal' opponents. There weren't many non-elves who could fill that role outside of Eragon. In fact, she could only think of this one. "Will you be my opponent?"

"Nay," Orik said to her surprise. "Hrothgar send me here to observe your training, and this is one of the only parts of it that doesn't contain secrets our hosts don't want known. I would like to help out, but that will depend on him," he said, motioning towards the elf standing next to him. Orik gave a shrug. "Besides, it is not like I have much better to do."

Helena took a good look at who was supposed to be her new trainer. He looked old as far as elves go, yet nowhere near Rhunön's age. White hair and a sharp face, the elf gave her an evaluating look.

Since this was supposed to be her trainer, Helena placed her finger to her lips. "Atra du evarínya ono varda, Däthedr-vodhr." By speaking first, she indicated that this elf had greater social status in her eyes than she did.

The elf didn't really smile, but his features did soften as he reciprocated the politeness. "Greetings young Rider, most call me Agus. Though you, will refer to me only as Sir."

"As you wish. . . sir." The way the elf said it made it unclear whether he meant it as a title or an ironic name.

Sir nodded minutely. "Most humans no longer remember a time before Galbatorix's reign, but there was a time where elves and humans interacted more freely than they do now. Most elves disdain combat, myself included, but to teach others; that is more accepted. I was once prized as a teacher of the blade, and my students' accomplishments where mine."

"You have experience in training someone of my. . . level?." Again she had to fight back a grimace at her own lack of skill.

"I specialise in teaching the basics," Sir confirmed and pointed towards one of the wooden swords that laid on a bench. "Pick one up."

"Uhm, sir. My previous master told me I had no talent for the blade. I have been practicing with spear or quarterstaff."

"Pick up one of the blades." Sir repeated, more sternly this time.

Swallowing a huff, Helena did as she was bid.

"Talent isn't required," Sir told her as she walked. "Only your honest effort, dedication, and obedience."

 _Brom may have been harsh, but he was never this stuck up._

"Most of your greatest enemies will be wielding a sword, thus you must know how such a weapon is handled, even if you never plan to use one yourself." Sir explained. "Now get into a guard position."

"Don't hold it with two hands! Look at how I am holding it, yes like so. A bit more grip, okay good. Take a step forward, and copy my stance. Always use the balls of your feet as support, never your heals. Now, sink slightly into it, like so. Now, copy my footwork." Sir took a very small step forward and Helena did the same. "No! Your feet need to keep to the same distance. Keep your centre off mass in the middle, even while moving. Keep your feet close to the ground, yes, like so."

What followed was embarrassing five minutes of Helena doing these deliberate steps across the dojo, wooden sword still in hand, yet not doing much except tiring her arm. Murtagh had instructed her in footwork as well, but never like this.

This would set the tone for the next one and a half hours. Brom had been the sink or swim kind of teacher. Sir was the exact opposite. Creativity, according to him, was something only those who had mastered the basics should engage in. His students would improve slowly but surely.

Helena was reluctant to admit it, but Sir actually _was_ a good teacher. After he had her practicing some basic swinging motions, he did order a spar. In this spar he moved with a speed no higher than that of a slightly above average human, and he deliberately left openings so that the only way to hit him was through the attacks they had just been practicing. It was completely artificial, but it did drive home the lesson.

"With each new move I teach you, our practice rounds will grow harder for you, for I will ensure you will need to employ everything I thaught you up to that point in order to win," he said.

"But what about this," Helena said between laboured breaths, summoning her shrunken staff to her hand and returning it to its usual size.

"We will practice with your staff in due time, as well as incorporate your own unique gifts" Sir promised. "I plan to divide our time for the two weapons evenly. A spear is excellent for coordinated groups, but you are expected to be an army of your own. It also very effective in a one on one duel because of its reach, but it has few options once your opponent gets too close. It is also very hard to manoeuvre around a shield with it." All of this Helena had already known. "A sword is faster to draw, even with your magic, and can give you some more options. Besides, you are a Rider. It is expected of you to know how to use a sword."

"If I am taken by surprise, my reflexive reaction will always be a spell," Helena said, choosing to not make an argument of that last bid. She still didn't care much for tradition, but she would try to discover the reasons they existed.

"If you wish to complain, do so to the Morning Sage. I was asked to instruct you in the use of conventional weapons, and that is what I plan to do." Sir gave a short bow. "You may leave."

Helena and Orik, who had been watching from the side lines the whole time, left together. "You shouldn't complain lass. I could tell that he is both a master of weapons and an excellent teacher. Some would no doubt pay a fortune to be in your shoes."

"I didn't mean to complain," Helena argued. "I just question whether I would be better off focusing on my strengths, instead of covering my weaknesses. I already have Godric to cover for those." She continued before Orik could reply. "I know, I know. I can't always count that he will be nearby." But she did expect him to be there for every major battle.

Godric was waiting for her when they came outside and that was where she and Orik said goodbye. The short distance towards where Eragon was, was hardly worth getting into the air for, but getting into the air was its own reward.

When they arrived, they found Eragon had been left much more the worse for wear in comparison to how her own training went. He looked bruised all over, and was favouring his left leg.

The elf who was his sparring partner – Vanir she recalled Oromis having said his name was – looked at him with poorly veiled disdain.

 _'What is going on here,'_ she asked Saphira who was also present.

 _'Eragon fights as well as can be expected, but Vanir is beyond him.'_ It seemed Helena was the only one who enjoyed a trainer that knew restraint. _'He will not thank you if you try to defend him here. He has his pride. Despite being outmatched, Vanir did need to try to win, which Eragon views as a small victory.'_

Helena didn't know what to think. That Oromis thought Eragon was ready to face foes like this was something to be proud of, but Eragon clearly looked hurt.

Regardless, when she dismounted she ran towards him. "Are you alright?"

"None of his wounds are permanent. Were he an elf, they would be gone within the hour." The way Vanir said it made it sound like not being an elf was a personal failing.

Helena shot the elf an angry glare.

"Waíse heill," she heard Eragon say next to her. Helena looked and found his bruises vanishing in front of her eyes. "Whilst because I am a Rider, my wounds are gone within a few seconds," Eragon said.

Vanir snorted. "We are done for today, silver hand." And he left.

Helena took a closer look at Eragon and noticed that despite his now healed injuries, he didn't look unhappy. "A productive morning?"

"You could say that," Eragon answered. "How about you?"

Helena explained the method behind her own training in more detail. "Well, I am glad you are in good hands," Eragon said.

"Unlike you," Helena couldn't help but mutter with a look towards where Vanir disappeared. "What's his problem?

"He is disappointed I am not an elf." Helena had already guessed as much. "But no matter. I need to grow used to fighting those who are more powerful than me. Even if I somehow obtain the strength and speed of an elf, there will always be someone better. I won't say this is fun, but it is useful."

Helena was impressed by his attitude. "We should leave for the Crags of Tel'naeír."

"We were waiting for you," Eragon said and with that they were off.

Oromis and Glaedr were waiting outside the hut when they arrived. After wishing each other a good morning and doing the daily stretches they immediately got to business.

"I hope you practiced the wards as I instructed," Oromis asked Helena.

"I did." Four times, though she had only needed one, truth be told.

"Then while we take care of that, you, Eragon will continue to meditate for an hour like you did yesterday."

"Actually, master, I was wondering if I might change locations regarding that."

"The location shouldn't matter. Where do you want to go?"

"At the base of the Menoa tree."

"Interesting. Why there specifically?"

Eragon then explained Blagden's prophecy and Solembum's message and how they thought they connected. "If I mediate at the base of the tree, that might give me a clue."

"An interesting idea, but my answer is no. Arya was right when she said you should try to give this task to those who are most experienced in guiding nature to do our will. Not to mention that having you mediate on a specific goal would run contrary to the purpose of this exercise. Remember, I wanted you to broaden your perspective, not narrow it down."

Eragon looked disappointed, but didn't raise any further objections. He went back to his tree stump as instructed. Glaedr took Saphira and Godric flying again.

Oromis turned to her next.

"Then let's not waste any more time. Speak the words of the enchantment once without using magic, just so I can make sure there are no mistakes."

Helena thought she might be speaking a little slowly, but she didn't make mistakes. After that one practice round, Oromis had her cast the wards for real.

"Should I cast spells on myself to check how much they cost me?" Helena asked once it was done.

"You could, but it wouldn't do you much good. With these sorts of spells it often depends on both the spell that is used and the person that casts it. Brom has already told you this, no doubt, but I must reiterate that these wards are not an ultimate defence. A magician that wants to kill you, even at the costs of his own life, will still have a decent shot of doing so. These wards can only protect you against spells we have foreseen. Creativity is and remains a magician's greatest weapon."

"I know Ebrethil."

"Let's go inside, so we can discuss what you learned from your readings." They did so and positioned themselves at adjacent corners of the table inside. "Do you perhaps have something to say about already?"

"As interesting as it is, I still don't really see the point. I don't think I have changed all that much by reading all these different ideas about morality."

"Ethics. That's the name of this particular branch of philosophy."

"Ethics then. I don't think that what I viewed as the right thing to do is a situation has changed by learning about it. At most it allowed me to explain it better."

"Can you truly not think of a use?"

"I suppose having people understand where I am coming from could be helpful, but I think I could have done that before now."

"Hmm," Oromis looked thoughtful. "You have been to Dras-Leona right?"

"Yes," she answered, curious as to where he was going with this.

"Did you encounter the slave trade while you were there?" The way Helena's features darkened was answer enough. "Then how about we start your first lesson on debating now. I will take the pro-slavery stance, while you take the anti-slavery stance. To make it easier, you are free to speak in the language you feel most comfortable in."

Helena opened her mouth but couldn't think of any words to explain something so obvious, regardless of the language. Even most people in Dras-Leona knew slavery was wrong. She assumed that even people who partook in it knew it was wrong. Their greed simply overwhelmed their sense of decency.

"Take your time," Oromis said calmly. "There is no audience, or pressure. This is just a simple exercise. Truthfully I probably should have told you to prepare this beforehand. But I hadn't planned on starting this so soon but this seems like the right moment."

"Well. . . do you consider yourself a decent person?"

"You can own and buy slave and be a decent person," Oromis stated.

Hearing him say that was disquieting. Helena had to remind herself that this was just an exercise and Oromis likely didn't really think that.

"How?" Helena asked cautiously. She knew she was right, but honestly doubted she'd win this argument. Oromis wouldn't have suggested this if he thought she'd already be capable of winning. This was meant to showcase a deficiency in her so he could correct it.

"I don't need to explain why it is right. You need to explain why it's wrong. When discussing the morality of any action, the null hypothesis is always that it is neutral. Neither good nor bad. It's up to you to showcase this isn't neutral when it comes to slavery."

"And you think owning a slave is neutral?"

"That is the stance I am taking in this exercise. My actual thoughts on the matter are irrelevant."

"Alright, will you accept that an institution that promotes suffering and hinders wellbeing is morally wrong?"

Oromis gave a small smile to indicate he approved of the question. "I do."

"Well then there you have it," Helena said as she leaned back her chair in a way that indicated the argument should be over. "From what I have seen in Dras-Leona, it definitely promoted suffering."

Oromis's smile vanished and his eyes looked upwards in exasperation. "No. I am afraid it is not that simple."

"Isn't it? I know one example does not a pattern make. Yet the Riders of old worked to stomp out the practice. Have you ever seen a case where it wasn't detrimental?"

"No, but I am afraid that still isn't enough. I want you to showcase a direct link between slavery and suffering."

"Do I really need to know the whys of it? If I observe that there is a negative effect, that should be enough. When somebody gets his toe stuck between a door, they don't need to understand the biological reasons for why it hurts to know not to do it again." Perhaps she would win this after all.

Oromis looked at her for a long time; not scornfully, but more like she was some strange puzzle. Then his eyes suddenly widened and he laughed, loud and hard. It was a wonderful sound. "Oh, you are a delight, truly."

Helena smiled uncertainly, and made helpless gesture with her hands. "Uhm, thank you?" The words came out small and uncertain.

"We Riders and our dragons are one of the most powerful beings on this earth," Oromis said, still smiling. "When we take an action, we know that there is no force in Alagaesia that can stop us. So it becomes all the more important that we never make mistakes. To that end, we debate endlessly to make sure there was as small of a chance their actions could be wrong. What you said, it has been a while since I have heard it, the common man's perspective. Thank you for that."

What Oromis had just said could be taken as a backhanded compliment, but Helena didn't think it was. "You're welcome," she said, as amused as Oromis looked, but also immensely pleased.

"But I would still like to continue this discussion. When you make a statement of X being wrong, you must need do this by demonstrating a direct and logical link. To illustrate: if you say that 'all birds can fly'. It isn't enough to showcase many birds that can fly. For there could be a bird that doesn't fly. Similarly, so long as it is theoretically possible to have slavery not cause suffering, it is not, in absolute terms, wrong. I know such reasoning matters little to most people, but please humour this old man."

"Okay. I will try." Just knowing what Oromis had just said about the Riders of old and knowing that they did go out of their way to wipe out slavery told her that such a logical link existed. "Well a slave lacks freedom. His fate is decided by another. Another that will never care as much for his happiness as the slave does. Thus the slave is worse off. Does that make sense?"

"Ah, but a lack of freedom need not bad. After all, children have little or no freedom do they not? Instead, they let guardians, those who are wiser than them dictate their course."

"Yes, but that's different," Helena said immediately.

"Again, all instinctively know this is true, but can you explain why?"

"For one, most parents love their children."

"You think it is impossible for someone to truly care for their slaves?"

"No, but they don't, so it doesn't matter."

Oromis shook his head, but didn't seem displeased. "And here we are again."

"Sorry," Helena said in the most unapologetic voice possible.

Oromis sighed. "It is I who should apologise, I think. I fear that we are both, in different ways, too wise and not wise enough for these kinds of talks. Tell me, what is the opposite of slavery?"

"Freedom?"

"Do you think it is possible to not be free, yet not be a slave?"

"Probably," Helena said. "We keep coming back to this, but I don't think I need to understand evil to recognise it."

"No, but it can help you in stopping it. And freedom is certainly not a wrong answer and the one most people give, but it is not the whole story. It is possible to not be free and still live a good life, though that is up for debate. There is also a very small, but not insignificant part of the population that trusts themselves so little they would be glad to put their fate into another's hand. No, another antithesis for it is equality. For slavery is inequality taken to its second greatest extreme. Where one party isn't even considered a person anymore. I am not saying it is impossible for rights to be attributed to slaves, but there is no denying that there is a huge discrepancy here."

Helena thought it over and supposed that made sense.

"What's interesting about that is that true equality is almost as bad as slavery."

That made less sense. "Could you explain that one?"

"One crushes the weak in favour of the exceptionally strong. The other crushes the exceptionally strong so they are no better off than the weak."

"How so?"

"Because it is very hard to make people worth as much as the greatest of us, but it is easier to bring the great down to the level of the least of us."

"Aren't we already all worth the same. Strong or weak. Rich or poor. Aren't all lives worth the same?" This was something she thought elves, who value life so much, should agree with.

"Picture a man, or woman if you prefer, who is what you would consider evil. But one day he or she decides to turn their life around and acts in a way that you would consider good. Do you think she is worth as much before as after her transformation?" Helena slowly shook her head. "Not all are worth the same, but that doesn't mean anybody is without worth or undeserving of help."

That last sentence did a lot to calm Helena, but it still made her uneasy. "But surely, the power to decide what another is worth is a power too great for anybody to use."

"I think you might be mistaking worth for rights. Those two things do not have to connect, or connect in the way you might think, but that is a whole other topic. Speaking of topics, we seem to have gotten way off ours."

"Before we move on, I am curious. This conversation obviously didn't go the way you planned or expected. If it did, what arguments could you possibly have used for something so terrible as slavery."

"I was counting on you failing to properly define the concept of 'slavery', which you did. This would allow me to push or assume the idea that all slavery entails is a lack of freedom. I could propose a sort of social security system where the most desperate could give up certain freedoms for the sake of security. Or for those who do not trust themselves with freedom. Dubious ideas to be certain, but not nearly as indefensible as what slavery actually entails."

"So you planned on cheating?" Helena asked bluntly, though she felt somewhat anxious at her boldness.

"Absolutely," Oromis admitted without hesitation or shame. "A lot of my arguments would have holes and counters, but that doesn't mean you can spot them. There are two kinds of debates. The ones where two people try to reach an understanding with each other, and the ones where both sides are trying to 'win'. The former is more worthy, but the second is the one you will you encounter the most and can be just as important. The battle of words. It is important you learn how to fight it, and to recognise the tactics that might be used. And it wasn't like you were unprepared. Clearly defining concepts was something you read about two days ago."

"Clearly defining right and wrong yes," Helena said. "But I don't think it mentioned I needed to clearly defining every single word."

"You need to know what something is before you can judge it right or wrong. You need not question every single word, but sometimes, especially in the question that is being debated, clarifying what everyone means is advisable. But let us return to what prompted this discussion."

Helena blinked and tried to remember what they were talking about before. "Yes, you were going to convince me of the use of studying ethics. And perhaps that was unfair of me to put on you Ebrithil. I do like to read about it and feel I must because of who and what I am." By the knowing look in Oromis's eyes he guessed that she wasn't just talking about being a Rider. "It causes me to think and ask questions and that is a good thing, I think. It just won't change me."

"All experience changes us in a small way, but I think I understand what you mean. Now, let us talk about these questions you ask yourself."

And so talk they did. Helena summarized in her own words everything she read, and with minimal prompting from Oromis, what she thought of it all. Helena feared she'd face hard criticisms for preferring the universalizability principle, which she viewed as more idealistic, over a more utilitarian stance, which she viewed as more 'ends justify the means'. To her pleasant surprise, Oromis didn't rebuke her.

"What you are saying is something many of the old riders at least partially believed," Oromis said. "We must act as examples and not use methods we condemn others for using just because we believe in our causes. Of course, we were more powerful than others. When you have power, it becomes easier to use more honourable means to achieve your ends. It is when you are powerless and things like violence and taking the enemy's methods as your own seem like the only path left to victory, that is when those ideals are put to the greatest test."

And _that_ was why she was so proud of the Order of The Phoenix and others who had fought on her side in the blood wars. They hadn't become like the enemy in order to fight them.

Oromis continued talking. "I have heard it said that leaders must know how to make hard choices, and this is true. But many also view that to mean that they must make choices that many view as distasteful. That they must sacrifice their own conscience for the sake of everyone else's. What many don't understand is that to do that, or to stick true to more noble courses and risk the consequences, are both equally hard choices."

Helena liked what she was hearing so far.

"Just so long as you don't look too harshly on those that do not follow your ideals, and so long as you don't think that we must _never ever_ compromise on our own ideals. Fanaticism towards an idea, no matter how good it might seem to you, is never a good thing. The question of methods versus the ends doesn't have two binary answers. Rather it has an endless amount of answers on a line with various branching paths. The extremes are usually bad, my young pupil, remember that."

"I will remember." Keep an open mind. That was what was basically being said here, Helena thought.

"Given your stance, there is a question that needs to be asked however. In the course of this war you have fought, and more importantly, killed others to achieve your goals. Why do you do this, if you don't think the ends should justify the means."

That was a question she had asked herself many times and had predicted was going to come up here.

"I do it, because I am not smart enough to think of a better way."

"A humble reply, but I don't consider it a satisfactory one. So just because someone isn't smart enough to think of a non-violent solution, that justifies it?"

"I am not justifying anything. Killing somebody is a bad thing. It may be the least bad choice available, but that doesn't make it not bad. It's important not to lose sight of that so we don't grow used to it and stop searching for a better way. I will continue to fight in this war, but I will also continue looking for ways to save as many people as I can along the way, be they my enemies or allies." That's how she, the hero, should act.

Oromis gave a small nod of. . .. acknowledgment? approval? Respect? Helena couldn't tell exactly, but it felt positive. "I hope that works out for you, and I mean that sincerely. This is what I meant by not holding too tightly to an extreme. You may fall further on the line towards universal principles than many but even you see that sometimes there is no other way, even if you consider doing so a personal failure."

They continued talking about everything else she read about until Eragon returned. Though the concept of Justice didn't invoke as much conversation as what came before. Mostly because Helena wasn't as passionate about it, viewing it as something a statesmen or stateswomen should concern themselves with, and Rider were supposed to be as apolitical as possible, weren't they? Oromis cautioned her against that kind of thinking. "The influence of the Riders is seen as a blessing by some, a source of worry by others. The day will come where you will give advice to rulers on matters of law. You must know what causes you will champion, and few causes are as important as justice."

"I know what I want justice to be like. I just don't know how to make such a thing work in practice. As I mentioned, I am not a ruler."

"Whether those words be humility or an excuse, it doesn't matter. Chances are you will end up giving advice on matters of state eventually. Like it or not, you are a figure of authority, and you have to decide whether or not you will exercise your powers to push the world in a direction you desire. The only way for you to avoid becoming a politician of some kind is to live as a hermit."

Helena recalled Gannel's words back at Tarnac. _'Tell me, when you look at the world, are you happy with it? Or do you think things could be better? If you think it can, and want to make it so, you better get used to all this politicking.'_ So the dwarven priest had said.

"I thought the Riders were supposed to be as neutral as possible?" Helena asked.

Oromis' lips twitched and he raised an eyebrow. "So now you care about the traditions of the Riders of old, do you?"

Helena felt her cheeks heat up in embarrassment. "I am supposed to understand why the Riders of old acted the way they did before changing anything, right? I am doing so now." Actually, this might be a good opportunity to ask another thing she had wondered about for a long time. "Why _was_ the old order so neutral? There were many terrible kings before Galbatorix." So Murtagh had told her. "Why didn't the Riders ever step in more?"

"Because we believed that doing so would be tantamount to making the humans a vassal race. I might have been willing to make the argument that it is not a bad thing to let those wiser than you decide your course, but the truth is that on this scale, I very much believe the opposite. There is no value in doing good, when the choice is taken from you."

"But many humans suffered because of it." she didn't necessarily disagree, but it felt wrong not mention the price.

"There were individuals within the Riders that believed they should get more involved in the active ruling of Alagaesia. That not doing so was irresponsible."

"But they were in the minority and were forbidden from doing as they pleased," Helena guessed.

"Just so. Until some of them joined Galbatorix and we no longer had the option to gainsay them." Helena straightened in her chair. "Do not act so surprised. Do you think he would have gained as many followers if he didn't have some persuasive arguments? Not all the Foresworn were like Morzan, who simply delighted in chaos and strife."

"But the world became even worse off after Galbatorix took power. If some of the Foresworn had noble intentions, surely they would have turned on him in the end."

Oromis sighed. "Maybe they would have. I want to believe not all of them were beyond redemption. But when their dragons were stripped of their names, none of the Foresworn were as they had been before. From what I know of how they acted after that event, none of them had the power or will to stand up to Galbatorix, even if they had wished to."

"Well, I suppose that is as good an argument for neutrality as any," Helena said with a hint of nervousness. Neutrality meant keeping your mouth shut and accepting the world as it was. Somehow that didn't seem like the heroic thing to do.

"I did not mean it as such," Oromis said. "You can change the world for the better if you want, but you have to use soft power. People will listen to you because of who you are. And so it becomes important to understand the policies you will support, both its benefits and downsides. Beyond that, you shouldn't focus on the world so much that you forget to help the individual people in your path. Not being able to see the trees through the forests, I believe you humans call it. Though I don't think you are at risk of forgetting that," Oromis looked out of his window towards the forest. "I sense Eragon will return to us shortly. Practice your patience by sitting in silence until he arrives. Clear your mind and listen to the sounds of the world around you. When he returns, we go back to speaking in the Ancient Language."

Helena leaned back in her chair, closed her eyes, and did as Oromis instructed. She reflected on how much she liked this last lesson. There was no doubt Oromis had high expectations that were difficult to meet. This was the first time where she felt she was meeting those expectations. The first time she felt that Oromis actually _liked_ her. Especially after that really bad first impression she had made.

After what felt like a short time, she heard Eragon's approaching footsteps. Only then did she open her eyes to look at the door expectantly. A few seconds later he appeared. His pants looked damp and dirty from having sat on the ground for so long.

"Take a seat, and tell us what you learned," Oromis instructed, speaking Elvish again as he said he would.

Eragon sat himself down with an expression of solemn resignation. "Master, I could listen night and day for the next twenty years and still not know everything that goes on in the forest."

Oromis raised an eyebrow. "That is true, but to learn everything that goes on in a twenty or so meter radius should be doable. Please, tell us what you learned."

Eragon was able to expound on which gender each ant had and their roles. Helena was worried about how much time Eragon spend on the ants, since Oromis had said there was a lot more out there. Eragon did give a somewhat embarrassed account of how he had gotten distracted when a large group of ants waged an epic battle against a brown spider. He did have a little bit of extra information about several other beings, mostly other insects, but even Helena could tell that was cursorily information at best.

"Still not good enough, I fear. You are intelligent and persistent and have as much potential as any Rider as any I have seen before. I know you can do better than this."

"Yes, I know. I simply got distracted. Next time I will do better, I swear it."

That placated Oromis and the elf went on to set the table for their midday meal. As he prepared the food and Helena saw what it was, she exchanged a look with Eragon. Using expressions alone, they communicated their tiredness of the same vegetarian diet. It wasn't just the fruit and vegetables that were the problem. Some of it was certainly varied enough to keep things interesting. It was just that there were always very specific kinds of vegetables present. There were only so many plants that could substitute for a healthy meat consumption. Specifically, beans, certain seeds, and mushrooms.

Both knew better than to complain however and they ate in silence.

"Master, may I ask after the purpose of my meditating in the forest?"

"Well what do you think the purpose is?" Oromis asked in turn.

"Well it can't be just to learn about the animals in the forest. That's interesting sure, but not something you would focus on, given our goal and limited time."

Oromis hummed encouragingly.

"It has to be useful in the coming conflict, or at least lead into something more tangible. You want me to be aware of what's around me. Is all of this leading up to me being aware of what every person around me is thinking at all times?"

"That is correct," Oromis said.

"But wouldn't that be an immense invasion of privacy? Brom taught me to never intrude in someone's mind unless it was absolutely necessary. I don't think I am comfortable with the idea of prying into everybody's secrets."

"I remember how I used to look into the minds of the servants back in Dras-Leona," Helena said. "It was the kind of violation you're talking about, and I ended up regretting it later. I know I would not want some stranger to look into my mind with me having no chance to defend myself."

"I think you made the right decision Helena, despite your current misgivings," Oromis said. "However invasive it may be, reading another person's thoughts will help you understand what drives them, and understanding begets empathy and compassion."

"I doubt someone that is unwillingly subjected to this would find it worth it," Helena said. They had just spent the morning talking about how the 'bad things for the greater good' way of thinking should be avoided if at all possible.

"You should also consider that if you do not do this, you will both be dead or worse within a few months," Oromis said bluntly.

"How? Assassins?" Eragon asked and guessed.

"A specific form of assassins. If you were Galbatorix, how would you fight this war in a way that would require the least amount of effort from you?"

"I suppose I would have as many soldiers swear their loyalty to me in the words of power. He has already done that with many magicians hasn't he?" Eragon guessed. "I'd try to have some of them maybe infiltrate the Varden and sabotage their efforts."

"But don't the Varden check any newcomer's mind?" Helena questioned.

"They will no longer have that option when they come to Surda," Oromis said. "There will simply be too many newcomers and too much space for spies to hide. They will likely still look into newcomers that reach a high enough rank of importance, but it will not be the failsafe it once was. And I don't think I need to remind you that it wasn't a fool proof method even before now."

"Could Galbatorix get enemy magicians to get close to the Varden?" Eragon asked.

"New magicians would be under a great deal of scrutiny, though the Varden's magicians are ostensibly still autonomous, at least in theory. But think Eragon, why would a hostile magician announce themselves as a magician?"

"They wouldn't," Eragon answered.

"And the greatest threat you are likely to face, short of Galbatorix himself, will come from enemy mages," Oromis said.

Helena had a sudden flash of realization and opened her mouth. Oromis stopped her with a pointed finger.

"But I am more than a match for any human magician," Eragon said and then seemed embarrassed. "I know that sounds arrogant but it's true, isn't it?"

Oromis sighed ,and with a glance, told Helena it was okay to speak. "That won't matter. It won't be a magician's duel as Brom warned us off, or like we saw with the twin and Trianna. They will just use a lethal spell from the get-go and sod the rest."

"But wouldn't that mean they would die as well?" Eragon asked, sounding perturbed

"So?" Was all Helena said. That was a price she had been and was still willing to pay to stop the war. If he had total dominance over his mages, why wouldn't Galbatorix demand that they pay such a price as well.

Eragon was quick on the update. "Is that why I need to learn to be aware of every mind around me. To avoid hostile magicians from doing that?"

"Indeed," Oromis said. "You could use this skill for far more than that, but if you think another person's privacy is more important, you don't need to do it anymore, but only _after_ the war is finished. I can think of no other options besides dying or otherwise giving up."

"But won't doing so leave my mind open to attack as well?" Eragon asked.

"Yes, but as you mentioned, you are a match for any normal human magician. A direct confrontation would work in your favour. And don't think this means you need to dig through every person's mind you come across. Our minds are far more complex than that of any animal. It is what separates us from them. You won't know all their secrets just from the cursory inspection this skill will grant you."

Eragon looked mollified. "What about our wards? Won't they protect us from these suicide attacks?"

"They are not a perfect defence," Oromis said again. "There is a good chance Galbatorix will be able to craft a spell to get past your wards. It isn't like whomever he shares such spells with will have a chance to share them or use them against him."

"If this mind awareness skill is so important, why am I not learning it?" Helena asked.

Oromis raised an eyebrow. "I thought I made it clear that everything I teach to one of you, I expect you to share amongst yourselves. If you haven't learned it by the time you leave _Ellesméra_ , it would be best if you do not leave Eragon's side until you do learn it."

Helena settled down and resolved to start practicing this when she got the chance.

"I want to ask both of you a question. Something I ask to every single one of my students. What is the most important mental tool a person can have? Don't say it immediately. I want you both to think of your own answer without being influenced by the other before answering."

Helena didn't need to think long. "I have my answer." "As do I." Helena said and Eragon followed a few seconds afterwards.

"Very well," Oromis motioned for them to continue.

"Determination," Eragon said.

"Love," Helena said a second afterwards in. Speaking the word in the language of power gave it an almost reverent quality, Helena thought.

Eragon looked at her with an amused expression. "For all that you don't fit into traditional mould of a human woman, you can be quite girly some times."

"I am serious," Helena insisted strongly. Eragon got the message and looked contrite.

"Justify." Oromis commanded sharply. "Eragon, you first."

"Without determination, you can't get anywhere in life. Wisdom and logic may allow you to find the correct course of action, but that is useless without the will to see it through. As long as you have determination, you can keep trying. No matter how long it takes you."

"Helena," Oromis prompted.

She spoke English, because this was too much and complicated to do in Elvish for her. "Determination may allow you to _achieve_ much. But there is more to life than what you achieve. Good or bad, rich or poor, king or begger. All of it won't matter if there is no one in your life to share your pain and successes with. And I am not just talking about a romantic partner. A single friend would be enough, but everyone needs at least one other to be truly happy. There is nothing more important than being able to care about someone else, and no greater blessing than someone caring for you in turn." Eragon looked even more sorry that he made light of it before. Good. "Not only that. Being able to love your fellow man, even if it's a stranger, is the world's greatest defence against evil. Empathy and compassion are also a result of love. Love is what saved my life when I was but a baby and what allowed me to save the lives of everyone I cared about later."

"This is important to you," Eragon said softly, and Helena's severe look was enough of an answer. "I am sorry I made mock of it before. My answer seems a little weak in comparison now."

Oromis didn't seem that impressed however. "It can also be argued that love could be a cause of suffering as well."

 _Don't be such a Murtagh, Oromis,_ Helena complained silently.

"I am not talking in absolutes," Helena said. "I am sure that in some rare cases, love can be abused. Generally however, it is the most important thing in our lives and is a positive influence."

"It is also something most people already have. It is important in the same way being able to walk or speak is important. Love is something that feels special to every one of us, but if you look at the world with an objective eye, it really is quite common. Even some animals are capable of love. Furthermore, you use the word in a very broad meaning. The love of a stranger, if it could even be called that, and the love you have for those closest to you is so different it is hardly fair to speak of them as if they are the same. It is a very common thing to be willing to worsen the lives of strangers if it improves the lives of people you 'love'. That is why I say it can be argued it can cause suffering as well."

"Yet life is empty without," Helena insisted.

"It is not up to us to decide how fulfilling a life is. I have known even a hermit to be happy."

"Exceptions are always possible," Helena grudgingly allowed. "But I stand by my answer."

Oromis turned his sceptical eye on Eragon next. "Both of you picked the attributed that played the most important role in your journeys, but does that really make it the most important mental attribute a person can have? Determination is very hard to distinguish from stubbornness. It can prevent you from seeing when you should just _stop_."

"I never would gotten this far if I thought like that," Eragon said.

"Maybe you wouldn't have, but that just emphasizes my point. It may have served you well, but it may also, for example, cause a general to commit more soldiers to a lost battle. It can make a person hold on to a grudge for far longer than is healthy. Cause a suitor to continue to pursue a desirable mate, though he or she has rebuffed them many times, and it has long since become time to move on. There are many other such examples."

"There are always exceptions," Helena tried to reason. "Just because it can be hindrance in some situations doesn't make them generally a bad thing."

"Fair enough, but I think that the ability to think logically is the most important attribute a person can poses. Particularly because so few people possess it."

"If all you have is the ability to think logically, then you're just a machine," Helena said

"Uhm…?" Eragon made a confused sound. "How can a machine think at all?"

The times where she needed to explain some foreign concept from her world to make herself understood had grown fewer over the past months, but they did occasionally still happen. She briefly explained the concept of a robot.

"But that is not what I mean here, and no single mental attribute would do well in isolation," Oromis said after Helena finished explaining. "You're still a person, capable of feeling and wanting. I am saying that if there is a single attribute we would do well to encourage in others, it would be the ability to make analytical decisions."

"Sometimes it does pays to be a little mad," Helena said, thinking of all times doing the unthinkable had worked in her favour.

Oromis gave a despondent sigh. "I think this has become a little too personal for you, Helena. You're no longer trying to reach a truth, instead you are merely fighting not to lose. Let's leave the conversation here to pick it back up again later if we want. I don't expect to be able to change deeply held beliefs in a single dinner conversation."

Helena startled when she indeed realized how invested she was. _It seems I have found another idea that is too close for me to let go of without issue._

"For the next ninety minutes I intend to give Eragon a private lesson like we just had," Oromis told her. "In the meantime, I want you to find and practice new ways to use the magic that only you have. Nobody realizes better what it can and can't do than you, so the help I can offer you is limited."

"That's fine. I had an idea I wanted to try out anyway," Helena said. If her guess was correct, that idea would cover what had previously been a massive gap in her skillset. As she left the hut, she heard Oromis and Eragon continuing the conversation about the most important mental quality without her. Fine. She was sure Eragon would share the details later.

By the time she walked into the forest to the south, away from the cliff and out of sight of the hut, she had managed to wrestle her mind away from the previous conversations and onto her new task.

So far she had what she called 'instinctual control' over two spells. The general 'force' spell to move things around, and the 'Hearthfire' spell she learned on the road to Gil'ead. Of those two, only the first would be useful in the coming conflict. Winter was just about over, so an easy heating charm would soon lose relevance, and she couldn't boost it to make it a 'damaging heat'. That was against the nature of the spell.

She hadn't had a lot of time for experiments until she started to travel with the elves. After that she had tried to think of new possibilities without success. The pure desperate desire she had felt to escape the cold when she created Hearthfire wasn't something you could summon at will.

But now that she knew her true name, she had a much better understanding of her own deepest desires. To be a hero. And what is a hero but someone who saves lives. And was there any purer expression of that than the ability to heal? Healing was a complicated bit of magic that required several more years of education after Hogwarts, and she had never mastered it. Lacking that ability had caused no end of grief since all of this began.

And yet, even without the knowledge one normally needed, she had managed to heal that wannabe slaver just before meeting the Varden. Purely by leaning on the more desire-based aspect of her mutated magic. Knowing her true name now, there was a chance she might be able to take that to the next level.

The problem was finding someone to test it out on. She couldn't ask someone to injure themselves just to test out her new and possibly dangerous skill. She could have tried it out on Eragon after his spar with Vanir, but he healed himself before she got a chance to. If she even dared to use a completely new magic out on him.

Using her husky form she ran deeper into the forest until she was several miles out.

 _Well here goes nothing._ She applied a quick Amplifying charm to her voice and then spoke in the Ancient Language. "I am trying to learn how to heal. Does anybody want to volunteer." And then to put it as simply as possible. "I want to heal you."

Eragon had told her once about a time Brom managed to convince a small bird to land on his shoulder by saying 'I mean no harm' in Elvish. Helena had no idea how that was possible, but it seemed animals had an instinctive understanding of Elvish. Hopefully that would be even more true for those creatures that lived in Du Weldenvarden.

As she waited for something to show up, she also tried to open her mind to the world around her as Eragon was learning how to do. A myriad of confusing sensations greeted her. If she focused on a single thing or already knew what something was by looking at it, it became clearer. This was obviously something that would require more practice. Obvious in hindsight, since Oromis wouldn't have Eragon spend so much time on it if it was easy.

Her first potential candidate showed itself about two minutes after she made her announcement. A brown fox, though as she wasn't educated about its species, she couldn't tell what kind of fox.

She crouched low to make herself less threatening. "Hey little friend. Can I help you with something?"

As a Husky animagus, she had an instinctual understanding of other canines. Though it was harder with foxes and wolves than with other dogs, she understood that the fox wasn't feeling well, though he didn't understand the why of it himself.

"Can I have a look inside your mind to get your perspective?" Maybe that would let her figure out what was wrong?

After she got the okay she focused her mind on the fox's, and tried to gently easy into it. It didn't take her long to figure out that the fox was running some kind of fever. She briefly turned into her actual Husky form to get the fox's scent to confirm her diagnosis.

 _There could be many reasons behind the fever. So all I know is that he's sick. Not nearly enough to go on if I wanted to use healing magic the conventional way._ If she could somehow heal this, that would mean she could heal just about anything.

Helena took a deep breath and recited her own true name in her head. She thought about how the wilds were an unforgiving place, and there was a good chance the fox would die if left to its own devices. _The core of what I am is in this single spell._ The magical glow that radiated from her hand was more of a soft orange than the bright red that she was used to. Like the colour of Godric's eyes.

"Shh, it's alright," she hushed the fox when it looked ready to bolt from the strange light. "It will help." New magic like this was always supposed to be dangerous. Yet something told her this spell wouldn't harm her target. Whether it would cure it with her having so little knowledge of what needed curing was still up in the air.

For two solid minutes she did nothing but focus on the concept of 'hero' that was part of her name, and how this was the purest expression of it. Her eyes weren't closed, but her focus was such she hardly noticed her surroundings.

When she hoped enough time had passed, she allowed the spell to fade, and only then noticed the little fox nuzzling her leg affectionately. After a quick inspection she confirmed that the fever was gone, though whether the source of the ailment was cured she couldn't say for sure.

"If you feel bad again, please find the old elf living in a hut nearby," she told him before it ran away.

Hearthfire became easier to use after she pulled it off once, so maybe it would be the same with this new spell? She tried to summon the same healing light again, and with some effort, managed to recreate the soft orange glow. As a little experiment, she let the light engulf the grass and the leaves around her. Perhaps it was her imagination, but she thought she saw the leaves shifting as the light washed over them like it was trying to follow.

She placed her hand on a nearby tree trunk and tried out her new spell on it. Being aware of every mind around her was beyond her, but focusing on a single mind was something she had been able to do not long after becoming a Rider. She did feel. . . something from it. Something healthy and good. Maybe her spell wasn't so much a healing effect as a general positive influence?

She silently dubbed her new spell. 'Hero's Light'.

Another concept she had thought of was using her new determination as an attack. After all, her wish to be a hero doesn't just drive her to reinforce the good, but fight the bad. The current war being the obvious example. That seemed dangerous however. Healing was one thing. It's a lot harder to find fault in that. To use a 'hero's' power to kill, however, could lead to narrowmindedness. It would require her to be completely convinced that striking down her foes would be the righteous thing to do. She didn't think she'd ever want such certainty when it came to shedding blood. It was also too close to 'Dark Magic' for her liking. It also flew into the face of what she told Oromis two hours ago. That she would always look for better ways to resolve conflict.

So sadly their wasn't going to be a 'Paragon's judgment' spell.

Over the next hour another five critters came up to her asking to make good on her promise. Each time she tried to heal, the power came easier to use until at the end she was confident she could call upon it at will with no effort.

With one notable exception.

When a green python snake approached her for help with a nasty looking cut just below its head, the power refused to come. She did try, but the long held distaste she held for the slithery reptiles made it impossible. For the sake of fairness, she used her own newly acquired Rider powers to heal the wound using her own energies. It was a worrying trend since she was sure to work together with people she disliked in the future. Failing to help an ally just because of personal dislike was unacceptable for many reasons. The only way to get around that problem was to genuinely get over her own biases, which wasn't something she could do just because she wanted to.

At least her magic didn't hurt the snake, confirming that even if it failed, her new spell couldn't unintentionally harm someone.

 _Yesterday I unlocked my traditional Rider powers, and today I learn what is probably the most useful spell I will ever learn._ Those two alone would have been enough to make coming here worth it, and it hadn't even been a week yet.

It was a very pleased Helena who started walking back towards Oromis's hut when she judged the ninety allotted minutes were over. Though soon her thoughts grew more contemplative. She had saved five lives just now, but three out of those five were predators, which means that her actions also likely caused the death of some others. More relevant to her in the future, was healing her own fighters really all that different from killing their combined enemies. Those soldiers would go on fighting, after all. How responsible was she for those deaths? Helena was again reminded of the conflict of 'universal principles' versus 'utilitarian' principles; methods versus goals. Earlier when discussing it with Oromis she chose the former, and yet. . .

Helena had felt proud of herself when Oromis had told her she used a common man's perspective whilst he felt further removed with his deep thinking. Yet now here she was valuing higher principles over all the lives her actions were affecting. She was reminded of the priests back in Tarnac who valued their own higher power over the lives they would be better off using their resources on. Helena had silently judged them for that perceived failure. Was what she did here any different?

She had told Oromis that there was no way she would lose her magic as Merope Gaunt had, just because she started to doubt some of her beliefs. It seemed that wasn't entirely true anymore. Doubting herself might literally cripple one of her most useful abilities and cause her to be less effective as a hero.

It was a more subdued Helena who arrived back at the cliffs than when she started walking back.

Oromis and Eragon were waiting outside the hut. Glaedr, Godric and Saphira were also present.

'Good. You are just in time,' Glaedr said to her as he loomed over everyone else present. "From now on, we will reserve this time of the day to practice working together with your partner, including but not limited to flying," Oromis said.

Helena couldn't help but grin at the prospect of some real challenges when flying. She loved joining in on the regular challenges Saphira and Godric held and hoped this would be similar.

'Today we will practice a manoeuvre we called crash tackling,' Godric said. 'We dragons are lighter than our size would suggest, but that is still significant. Using all that weight in a tackle is an incredibly powerful weapon, especially if you add in the speed we attain when flying. Since an attack like this is harder to ward against than our fire, that makes physical attacks such as this even more relevant. The problem is that while we dragons can withstand the forces involved when we slam into something, at least when we brace ourselves properly, it is a lot harder for our Riders.'

"Today we will start practicing how to make your body absorb such forces. Partly through using technique to absorb the forces over your whole body, mostly through magic. There is only so much technique can help you when your body goes from three hundred kilometres per hour to zero almost instantaneously."

Helena did have magic to survive high speed collisions, but that involved slowing or stopping the object coming towards you, or yourself, which would defeat the point in this case.

"But wouldn't such a thing take a huge amount of energy?" Eragon asked.

"For a normal magician, yes, for a Rider it is a manageable amount. About the equivalent of lifting a five hundred kilogram boulder off the ground for a single seconds"

Turns out that besides technique and magic there was also equipment to consider. The new saddles they had been given yesterday had features that they only now realized. At the front there was a bump that gave way if you pressed it, sort of like an airbag. Not only that, the back of the saddle could be lifted at an angle to give support for the Rider's back in case there was a sudden acceleration.

Eragon and Saphira could leave with Glaedr immediately, but Helena had to stay behind with Oromis to prove she could use Rider magic with the required amount of precision. That only took a few minutes thankfully. New though it may be, it was still magic, and Helena was familiar with the mental discipline necessary. The real problem were the energy requirements. Helena's smaller size, stamina, and constitution translated directly into a smaller energy pool to call on. Being a Rider still made it larger than it would otherwise be, but it was definitely smaller than Eragon's.

By the time Godric had slammed into the edge of cliffside ten times, Helena was forced to take a break. By that time Saphira and Eragon had done thirteen runs and were still going strong.

The cliffside was specifically chosen since it would allow the dragons some time to get their bearings in the air after falling down.

It didn't take Helena and Eragon long to figure out that this manoeuvre was specifically designed to fight other flying enemies. Helena only thought of Galbatorix's dragon Shruikan, but Eragon also remembered the flying mounts that the Ra'zac had.

Glaedr confirmed their suspicions and told them that he expected Saphira and Godric to eventually practice tackling each other in mid-air. Though they would get at least few hours of training before they attempted such a thing since that was even worse than slamming into an immovable object.

Despite feeling out of breath, bruised, and tired, Helena was in her element and a constant smile was plastered across her face. The wind brushing past her cheeks, the excitement of doing dangerous manoeuvres, the light feeling in her stomach every time Godric dived down; she loved it all. Such a physical and adrenalin filled activity was a welcome change after all the talking and thinking she had been forced to do today.

After another one and a half hour Helena let herself fall back into her chair in Oromis's hut like a sack of potatoes. Tired, but a good kind of tired.

"Now that we have some more blood running through our brains, its time for the last exercise of the day," Oromis said after a ten minute break. "As you know, the physical and magical are only two out of three aspects of our power. At this time each day for the next several weeks we shall practice our mental combat abilities."

That was something Eragon and Helena had practiced on and off with each other from the moment Brom was lost to them. When they started, Helena had the clear advantage, but over time the gap between the two junior Riders had shrunk. The witch still won most of them, but not by much, and their matches always lasted a long time now before someone would get the upper hand.

"To get a good idea about where you stand, I will be test each of you in a one on one match. Glaedr will do the same for Saphira and Glaedr."

The two smaller dragons didn't say anything, but Helena and Eragon could sense the surprise from their partners. Oromis and Glaedr had no such empathetic link, but he could tell all the same. 'Your minds are as capable of roaming as that of your Riders. Of course you will be joining in on this,' Glaedr said, his tone suggesting his two protégés were fools to have thought otherwise.

Helena did recall that the dragons had been able to attack Durza back in the dwarven throne room when their bodies were incapacitated. They didn't seem to have had much success with it at the time, but Durza had been a powerful opponent.

"A Rider and Dragon are supposed to act in unison, and in this it is no different. The goal is for your two minds to work together seamlessly to overwhelm any single opponent."

Despite both Riders having had practice with this skill, their first match against Oromis was humbling. Helena had expected it honestly. When she fought Brom like this, she had compared herself with a ridiculously powerful brawler while he was a weaker but much more skilled martial artist. Oromis was like Brom in skill if not better, but because he was still a Rider too, he more than matched both of his pupils in terms of strength.

The less said about how Godric and Saphira faired against Glaedr the better.

"This truly is one area where your ages work against you. I don't think there is a way for you four to gain our own mastery over this discipline in just a few months, but we will try as best we can."

"How good is Galbatorix at this? And how was he, as a young Rider, able to compete with masters like you?" Eragon asked.

"Part of it was the element of surprise. You don't need to surpass your opponents in skill if you can catch them unawares. Most of us didn't keep a constant watch on our surroundings with our minds at the time like I am now advising you to learn. Part of it was his own natural talent. One of his previous tutors told me that he truly enjoyed fighting and breaking others with his mind, much like Morzan enjoyed doing so with more mundane means. Sadly, none who have faced him in such a duel are alive to tell us about it today. There is one more element to it, but I won't share that yet. I will before you leave and risk fighting him, but I want to delay that for as long as I can."

Even Eragon, insatiably curious as he was, knew that they weren't going to get Oromis to tell them what this other element was until the elf wanted to tell them.

"You do have one advantage though. Despite commanding a dragon, Galbatorix doesn't have the same bond with him as you do with your own partners. You can work together, in a way he cannot."

"And yet, he defeated every Rider that has ever challenged him anyway," Helena pointed out.

"True," Oromis sighed. "Wish is why you must take any advantage you can here if you are to win. Ideally, you would be aided by our greatest magicians if you end up facing Galbatorix. I doubt he would be stupid enough to let himself be caught in such a situation, but who knows, he might be arrogant or mad enough to believe that nothing can beat him anymore."

Helena hoped it was simply her imagination, but something in Oromis's eyes made it seem like he thought that Galbatorix might not be so mad if he thought nothing could beat him anymore.

"Anyway, there is no better way to learn this skill than practice, so defend yourself." A second later Helena felt the stab of Oromis's diamond like will strike at her own, and Helena started her flailing attempts at fighting back.

To make the fight at least feel a little less short and one-sided, Oromis soon allowed Eragon and Helena to team up on the old elf. Saphira and Godric, though having even less luck, were still trying to take on Glaedr by themselves. Helena understood it had something to do with pride.

That pride didn't stop them from working together with their Riders though. Soon Godric and Helena were teaming up against Glaedr, whilst Saphira and Eragon faced Oromis. Such a team up was more effective than either the humans or the dragons fighting together, but it required a deeper level of connection between dragon and rider than either was used to.

By the end, even if Godric hadn't already known her true name, Helena was sure he would have learned it from this alone.

"That will be it for today. Next time we will practice defending your mind by keeping it blank; you will likely require that skill when facing Galbatorix. By tomorrow I want you two to share what you learned these last two days with each other, and do so by speaking in this language," Oromis said, still speaking in the Ancient Language as he had done for most of the day.

"Before we leave, can I talk to you some more about what we talked about this morning?" Helena asked.

"You can, so long as you don't use the common tongue," Oromis offered, with a smile that was part encouraging, part challenging.

It took a while, but eventually Helena was able to convey her dilemma of healing predators who might go on to hurt others, and her worries about holding principles higher than the people they were supposed to serve.

While Oromis insisted that she speak the still unfamiliar language, he was considered enough to use English so she could easily understand. "I think you may have misunderstood something. We talk about universal principles as a 'the end doesn't justify the means' kind of thinking, but that is misleading. We believe in not making exception to certain core values, not because those values are more important than our goal, but precisely because following them better achieves the goal of making the world better. By acting as an example for others to follow. Indeed, if it turns out that holding to universal principles gets us a worse result, both in the short and long term, you should discard or revise them. Do not cling so tightly to any idea that you cannot revise it if it doesn't give you the result you want. To do otherwise would make you a zealot. I have said so before, but it bears repeating."

"As for your worries about healing predators, it is a valid concern. Healing people is considered less controversial than killing bad ones because of the example it sets. After all, if you kill someone because you consider them 'bad', then the example you set is that everyone can kill if their moral views are different enough. Or you would make it clear that you are an exception, and only you have this authority, but that comes with its own list of problems. The questions you ask yourself are good ones, and deserve some thinking on your own part whenever they come up. I warn you though, if you are looking for certainty that you are doing the right thing, you will remain disappointed. Rarely do we know the full consequences of our actions, and so we are left with educated guesses as to what the right course of action is. What's most important is to always be able to look back at what you did and how it turned out, and learn from it."

Helena took in the words and found it sound advice, but that left one more issue. . .

"As for the way your unique form of magic interacts with your convictions, that is troubling," Oromis addressed the last and most practical issue. "This is what I feared would happen when you explained that there was a correlation between conviction and power. My best advice is to realize that so long as you continue searching for better solutions, there is nothing wrong with pursuing what is currently your best plan with all your heart. I hope that will suffice, because if not, I truly do not know if the price this power will demand of your psyche will be worth it."

Helena nodded. "I will try."

"I also wouldn't be so quick to write off using this power to attack. What I just said can apply to for an attack as well as healing. Maybe it will manifest as an attack that incapacitates without killing your enemy? I don't know, but it deserves looking into, don't you think?"

That sounded reasonable, and she hummed in agreement, but she was still extremely uncomfortable with its close resemblance to Dark Magic.

"Those sound like some fascinating conversations you had," Eragon said. He had been told he could leave if he wanted to, but he wanted to stay and wait for her, and so had been listing in. "I hope you will tell me about them."

"Sure. I'd love to hear your thoughts," she said as she stood up from her chair. Helena suspected that they'd agree on most things, but that assumption had been proven wrong on occasion.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

Soon Eragon and Helena returned to their tree house while the dragons continued their explorations together. Godric and Saphira had both needed to hide for so long, Helena understood how refreshing the current situation was to both of them.

"So what did Oromis and you talk about while I was gone?" Helena asked, reluctantly using Elvish. That added difficulty really sucked most enjoyment out of a conversation.

"Mostly a continuation of where we were when you left. The most important mental tool a person can have. I do think Oromis is right though when he says you use the word 'love' too broadly. You can 'love' to be alone, but it isn't the same thing. You can stretch the word out to mean want and happiness itself. That's hardly fair. And logical reasoning is the thing most people could use more off." Eragon, being more at home in Elvish, spoke faster than she and it took a while to decipher his words.

"Fine, but I still think love as in the caring and being cared for and by others is important," Helena insisted.

"And no-one disagrees with you. I certainly don't," Eragon gave a small shrug. "Honestly, while interesting, the discussion is ultimately pointless. Love can give your life meaning and purpose, logic and reason can tell you how to pursue that purpose, while determination allows you to act on whatever you decide. None of it is worth anything on its own. That's what we decided on."

That sounded right to Helena.

"We also discussed the answers to the problems Oromis told me to solve yesterday, but he said I wasn't to give you the answers as you needed to look for them yourself. So it's your turn. What did you talk about?"

Helena tried. She really, really did, but after taking half an hour to get only a few dozen sentences out, she reverted back to English. Eragon than helped her to translate everything she wanted to say.

As for his thoughts on the matter, Eragon was a little harsher in his views, or realistic as Eragon himself called it.

"I don't know, Helena. It feels like common sense that bad things should happen to bad people. Their wellbeing doesn't really mean much to me when I decide on something."

"You were all for not killing that slaver – Will I think his name was – just as I was." Eragon and Helena came to an arrangement where he would speak Elvish and Helena English. She might not be good enough to speak it fluently, but translating was something she could do with some effort. This way they would both get some practice without the conversation halting between each sentence.

"True. To be fair I didn't really think too much about it back then. I just didn't want to kill someone in cold blood, or want Murtagh to do so. I am not sure whether that was the right decision. What if he hurts someone else? Are you and I responsible?"

"Partly," Helena said. "I hope we scared them enough. For decades those people had free reign. That is clearly no longer true with our arrival and the Varden invading soon. But the truth is I don't know" In hindsight, she regretted not forcing her way into Will's head to judge his intentions, but everything had gone by so fast and time had been of the essence. Despite fighting Murtagh for his life, Will hadn't really been the important thing to her mind. Her concerns were for Murtagh's ruthlessness, setting an example, and showing of her own principles. Maybe she should try and find out what happened to the wannabe slaver when she had the time?

"But maybe you do have a point of revenge," Eragon said in Elvish. "I still won't give up on my goal to kill the Ra'Zac, but maybe I will do so for better reasons."

Helena grinned broadly at that.

"I was supposed to practice reading the surroundings with my mind, wasn't I? And I could use a more relaxing task. Any advice?"

"As far as a person that hasn't mastered a skill can give advice on it, don't think it will be easy or relaxing. It's incredibly taxing. Not counting our dragons, reading anybody's thoughts requires a concentrated effort, as you well know. Now imagine that, except without any focus, and for a whole hour."

While Eragon had a point, letting her mind wander had never been as difficult for her as Eragon made it sound.

"Beyond that, I suspect that Oromis offered me a spot to practice with lots of life to prepare me for the hustle of human society. So don't do it here in our house."

"Then I guess I am lucky this city is part forest. I suppose I will be back after. . . " Helena trailed off, thinking of how much time she'd spend on this.

"Just tell me where you are, and I will come and get you when it's time for dinner."

And so it was done. In order to better share her experience with Eragon, she choose a spot under a tree which she hoped would be similar to Eragon's tree stump. She had to move further away from the city however because of the minds of the elves that lived there. She didn't want to risk raising the ire from any nearby elf for invading their thoughts.

Once she did find a seclude spot in the middle of nothing, though she still let Eragon know where she was, it was an interesting experience. There wasn't really much of a limit in how far her mind could wander, as Oromis proved when he took her to Triana, so how far was she supposed to focus? She tried to identify what each organism she found was called, but that wasn't easy. There wasn't much to go on when the majority of what she encountered were insects. It was easier to tell what they were doing, and then move on. That was the most important part, wasn't it? She tried to learn from Eragon's admitted mistakes and not focus too long on anything.

The goal of this new skill was still beyond her though. She was still checking each organism one by one, and wasn't able to spread her focus to really be aware of anything. Yet.

So focused was she on the very small specks of awareness that surrounded her that the sudden arrival of Eragon's mind telling her to return nearly made her fall on her back in surprise. It was a little like seeing midday sunlight after being cooped up in a dark room.

She returned home with one quick apparition, startling Eragon.

They ate in unusual silence. Helena tried to share her experiences, but Eragon's mind was clearly preoccupied with something. Every time she looked at him he couldn't meet her eyes for very long. There was a tension in the air, and she didn't know why. "Is something wrong?"

"No. I am just, thinking." His words were fast, in English, and had jerking quality to it.

"Care to share?"

"Yes," he said slowly. "But maybe in a few hours from now."

Helena blinked. "Alright. I am incredibly confused, but alright."

As they finished their meal in silence, Helena tried and failed to think of why he was so hesitant to speak up. She tried to talk some more about the topics she and Oromis had discussed, but it was hard to get more than a two word answer out of him.

"I could share you some of the books that Oromis asked me to read. They could explain this stuff better than I could." That wasn't how Oromis had wanted them to learn from each other, but this simply wasn't working.

"Alright," Eragon said absentmindedly.

"Maybe I can have a look at the problems Oromis asked you to solve?"

"They are on my nightstand," Eragon said.

And that was how they both spend another hour. The problems Oromis gave Eragon were relatively easy if you knew the right words of power. Or course Helena didn't and had to look the words up.

Throughout the rest of the evening, the inexplicable tension surrounding Eragon didn't go away. If anything it grew the closer the sun came to setting. By the time Eragon said that he wanted to talk, Helena was feeling as apprehensive as Eragon clearly was.

"I wanted to talk about us," Eragon said.

Helena tensed. That could be a very bad sign. "You wanted to talk about us? Is something bothering you?"

"Not bothered, exactly but well. . . there have been a lot of signs. Of you dying, and of love lying empty, and with Oromis saying that we shouldn't marry and stuff."

"That doesn't mean we should give up," she said hastily and with a hint of panic.

"What?" Eragon startled. "No! that's not it at all."

"Then. . .?" she trailed off, indicating that he should continue talking.

"We have a few months to ourselves here. We have a lot of work to do, but our time here will likely be as peaceful as we are likely to see for a long time."

"Yes?"

"And there may be times in the coming war where we are confronted by our mortality, and the possibility that we are almost out of time. And I don't want that to be the thing that does it."

"Does what?" Helena asked. He was looking directly at her now, but she could tell it took a concentrated effort on his part.

"I want to spend the night with you." His voice was as intense as the look he gave her.

Helena drew in a slow breath.

"You said I needed to say or do something truly romantic to get another shot at this," Eragon said lightly with a grin. Helena appreciated his attempt to lighten the mood, forced though it felt. "But our time together may be limited. Yet I don't want us to feel so pressured as to only be together on the night of a great battle. I don't want us to be together for one special moment. I want to be as close to you as I can be, for as long as we can be. And if you don't even know if you will ever marry me anyway, then what's the point of waiting? Though I still want that eventually. Marry you that is. But if you don't know then. . . Well I don't want us to wait to figure it all out and risk losing out making the most of these next few months." Helena could follow it all, but it felt like Eragon was rambling a little.

He took a deep breath to calm himself. "The point is," he breathed out. "I want this. I want _you_. And if this is something you also want, then maybe that's enough."

 _'Do what feels right,'_ Godric said as he also conveyed his support with positive emotions. He had been paying attention to what she was doing, as usual. After he said those words, he fully retreated from her mind to give her as much privacy as he could.

"Do you want this?" Eragon asked _the_ question she knew was coming.

Helena throat felt dry. "Yes," She had been waiting for the right moment, but Eragon had a point. This moment could be that special moment if they simply decided that it was. "I, ehm," her mouth opened and closed several times before the next sound left it. "Like, right now?" her voice sounded high and squeaky to her own ears.

"Soon. Tonight, two hours after sunset. After we both wash ourselves," Eragon said.

Helena knew the sun had already set an hour ago.

"Yea, that sounds– that sounds wonderful," Helena stumbled over the words, though they were honestly meant.

If there had been a nervous tension before, it felt like the world was coming to end now. Or maybe like a world was beginning was a better analogy. Neither Eragon and Helena could get much more productive stuff done as they waited for the hour to pass.

"I am just going to. . . " Helena motioned towards the bathroom when she felt the time was almost ready.

"Aye," Eragon said as tried to give her an encouraging smile which she, just as awkwardly, tried to return.

Helena had never felt such a need to make to make absolutely sure she looked and smelled nice. It also took longer than it normally did. Her every movement felt strangely deliberate yet lethargic. There was no ounce of doubt that this was what she wanted, yet her stomach felt funny as if she was falling, and her heart felt like it would burst out of her chest. After washing her hair she had the thought to maybe shave herself down below. Would Eragon like that? Would he think her disgusting otherwise? In the end she was too embarrassed to act on that worry.

She dressed herself in the same soft blue nightclothes she had worn in Tarnac and exited through the slide door. Eragon was sitting at the table, and it didn't look like he had been doing anything but wait as she took her bath.

She swallowed. "I'll be waiting for you," she said. Eragon stood up and they shared a brief hug. Then she went on to do exactly as she said as Eragon took his turn. She knew from experience that he didn't take nearly as long to wash herself and it would soon be time.

She decided to wait and sit on Eragon's bed. Even after two nights, it already smelled vaguely like him. Moonlight shone through the thin curtain that was the only thing that shielded the room from the elements through clearly magical means. It was the only source of light in the room.

Helena could clearly hear the flowing of water from two rooms away. Could hear when it stopped, indicated the tub had been filled. Could hear the splashing and scrubbing. All of which served as an indicator of how close Eragon was to finishing, and coming to join her in the bed.

She felt hyper aware of every stimulus on her body. How her soft clothes brushed against her. How her still damp hair clung to neck. Even when there was nothing at all, she felt an itch on her skin if she payed attention to it.

"This is ridiculous," Helena whispered with vaguely hysterical look. She had thrown herself at Eragon before with no hesitation, and almost no nerves to speak of. And ever since then a large part of her had known and hoped for this exact moment. There was still no doubt that this was what she wanted, but these nerves were simply ludicrous.

She took several deep breaths in order to calm her racing heartbeat.

Two rooms over, she heard the water draining away. Which meant that all Eragon had left to do was dry himself.

 _Breath Helena just breath. This is Eragon. The one who always tries to look for a way to make you happy. Who would have already had my virginity in Tarnac if he had been a lesser man. Eragon, who loves me._

She heard the slide door from the bathroom to the dining room open. Helena looked up towards the bedroom door and a few seconds later he was there, illuminated by the lamps in the dining room. Unlike her, he had only put on a towel to cover his lower body. As she had confirmed back in Tarnac, he had the physique of a hale and healthy young man that spent his life working with his body and muscles. He entered and closed the door behind them, leaving them together with only just enough lights to see each other.

Helena smiled softly, and found that she didn't need to force it. She patted the spot on the bed next to her. Eragon shoulders sagged with a release of tension. He returned her expression and came over to sit beside her.

He grabbed one of her hands in his two larger ones and scrutinized her face. "No second thoughts?" he whispered in the dim light.

"None," she said, and let her eyelids fall nearly closed to give him a lidden look as she leaned closer.

Eragon placed his hand to cup her cheek and leaned in for the kiss. They separated briefly and Helena crawled so she was sitting in his lap while straddling him, and captured her lover's lips again. She could already feel him becoming hard through the towel. Eragon's arms surrounded and caressed her back. For a short time he was content to feel her through her clothes, but soon his hands went under her shirt and caressed her skin, pushing her clothes upwards. That was fine. Having Eragon remove her clothes had been the only reason she bothered to put any on in the first place. She again stopped making out and raised her hands so he could fully remove her top.

Eragon let the piece of clothing fall to the floor besides the bed. He paused after that, simply looking at her body. They didn't exchange words, but they communicated with a dozen varieties of smiles, grins, and awkward glances. Helena grabbed one of his hands and slowly placed it on top of one of her breasts. She felt him give it a very careful squeeze. He experimented a little, and again through expression alone, Helena conveyed what she liked and how much force was too much.

She untangled herself from Eragon, laid herself on her back, rubbed her thighs, and he understood. Five seconds later he pulled of her pants, and it joined her top on the ground. As did Eragon's towel for that matter, leaving both of them fully naked.

Helena turned and pressed her back against Eragon's and encouraged him to wrap his arms around her. She leaned backwards and wanted to melt herself against him. She felt Eragon's hot breath on her neck before he started planting kisses there and on her cheek. At the same time one of his hands continued his exploration of every part of her skin, while the other continuously fondled one of her breasts.

Helena was content to simply sit in his embrace, and let Eragon do whatever he wanted. An elated smile was constantly on her face, and she even felt her eyes starting to water. He was treating her as gently as she had hoped.

Eragon's wandering hand eventually reached her nether reasons. A soft "yea," from Helena encouraged Eragon to slowly insert a finger. It was clear Eragon was uncertain and didn't really understand what to do so Helena used her own finger to show him where to touch her. From then on, Eragon took his ques from the way Helena's back arched and the sounds she made. She tried to twist her neck so they might share another kiss, but the angle was too difficult and she just gave Eragon better excess to her neck. At this rate she risked him leaving a mark, but she couldn't bring herself to care.

Helena could only spare a brief thought to wonder why Eragon continued this for so long. Was this really that exciting for him or was it all for her sake? But it was only a brief and passing thought, since most her attention was on the pleasure and accumulating tension.

Several minutes later she felt a familiar pressure building "Don't stop . Not now. Please."

He didn't and soon she was desperately clutching the sheets and trembling in her lover's embrace.

She crawled out of from between his armsso she could look at Eragon for the first time since she pressed her back to him. He looked perplexed and slightly frustrated. "I didn't really understand what I was doing, but you seemed to be enjoying it."

 _So it was entirely for my sake._ She wasn't surprised that he would ignore his own wants in order to focus on hers. She thought about returning the favour. She knew his manhood was rock-hard both from the way it looked and how it had been pressing against her bottom these last few minutes. The tip already looked wet with pre-cum, though Helena didn't know enough about male anatomy to identify it.

 _No._ They had waited for long enough. He was hard, she still felt ready, and she just wanted to give him whatever he wanted, and she doubted that was either her hands or mouth.

She crawled over to him and held her mouth close to Eragon's ear and whispered. "Enough. You have done enough for me. Let go, and just do whatever you want. Tonight I am yours and I exist only for you to do with whatever you want."

It was as if a switch had been flipped and Helena felt herself being pressed backwards so she was on her back again. She looked up and found Eragon looking down at her like a starving man might look at an all-you-can-eat buffet. Far from being concerned, she felt warm at being so wanted, and pride that she could inspire such a look. Not feeling at all objectionable, she could have cooperated more, but somehow felt it would be better if Eragon pushed her legs apart himself with his knees and hands. It was the same reason she had kept her clothes on specifically so he could remove them. All she did was gave him a lecherous smile to show everything was all right.

He moved his body closer to hers until they touched, though he still support himself with his elbows and didn't let his weight press down on her. She saw him guide the tip of his member to her entrance and clenched her jaw to brace herself. She was more than wet enough at this point, and her hymen had broken years ago through masturbation, but this would still be her first time.

It was. . . neither as painful as she had feared, but also not quite as amazing as what they had done before. Still fulfilling, but that wasn't something she thought important. He had done everything he could for her, and now she wanted to do the same. She had said that she was his for tonight and fully meant it.

She ran her hands along Eragon's sides, feeling the lean muscles contract and relax as he slowly started to thrust into her. While she was lying below him, he still didn't allow his weight to fall on her, instead supporting himself with his hands and elbows. While Helena liked to think she didn't place much value in superficial things when it came to attraction, a primal part of her still appreciated the small display of strength from her man.

Through her moans, wandering hands, and cooperative movements of her pelvis she discovered that she could still exert some form of control over Eragon, even in this position where she was mostly at his mercy. And she revelled in it.

After a few minutes, that control all but disappeared however when he finally allowed his body to fully press against hers, pinning her between his larger shoulders. "Helena, I am gonna. . ." he didn't say anything more and didn't need to.

She wrapped her legs around his back to press herself even more tightly against him. She felt his cheek against hers as he proceeded to fuck her harder and faster than at any point before. It wasn't quiet painful, but it also wasn't something she wanted to continue for a long time, which she suspected it wouldn't. By moving her hands along with his moments and making lewd noises she tried to hasten his approaching climax.

Eragon let loose something that was part moan, part growl. With one final trust he sheathed himself completely inside her, and she felt his manhood throb as he released himself inside of her. Despite all logic and reason, Helena momentarily regretting that there was no possible way for the seed rushing into her womb to fertilize one of her eggs. A couple more short thrust followed, but his release quickly tapered off, and she slowly felt him growing soft inside her. For a while Eragon lay all but limp on top of her, breathing heavily and completely out of energy.

When he rolled of her and Helena briefly lost any bodily contact with him she felt a coldness that had very little to do with the temperature. Within a few seconds Eragon grabbed and spooned her close to his chest and all was right again.

"That was. . .," he said, his soft voice sounding very loud due to proximity and the surrounding stillness.

Not feeling inclined to speak just yet, Helena made an agreeable un-hum noise ,and continued her efforts to wiggle, melt, and disappear into Eragon's chest.

"So it was. . . okay?"

"We will get better with practice," Helena purred salaciously. They had essentially taken turns where they focused on each other's enjoyments, instead of at the same time. And it seemed like Eragon came kind of fast once he got going. She wouldn't change how this night had turned out, but their mutual inexperience had showed a little.

"Practice, huh." It was clear that Eragon enjoyed that idea, and they were still again for a few minutes. They briefly shifted positions so that Helena could crawl atop her lover and rest her head on his chest while he stroked her back.

"Stay with me forever?"

The seriousness of the question that was as good as a proposal brought with it a sudden burst of lucidity that broke through the haze euphoric bless. _That's. . . that's not fair._

"Would you follow me anywhere? Would you follow me if it meant never knowing peace, to never stop fighting, always looking for new adventures and evils to fight? If so, then yes, I'll be your wife if you'll have me."

Eragon didn't answer and she hadn't expected him to. He had expressed reluctance at the idea before and if he said yes now while under the influence of their afterglow it wouldn't be right.

And yet. . . Would it be so bad? Her true name didn't lie, but there was more to her than just one single desire. Would it be so bad to just give Eragon the life and family he wanted? In her mind's eye she pictured it. Eragon running his hand reverently over her belly, swollen with child. Of them sitting on a riverbank on a warm summer day; Helena sitting in Eragon's lap while a small boy with her raven hair and Eragon's warm brown eyes sat in her lap. In her imagination she could picture the two of them with a book as they read their child fairy tales and thaught him how to read.

And then she thought about the alternative. Exploring the world with Godric at her side. Saving and improving lives, leaving an impact wherever she went. Instead of a few children and a family of her own, her life would be defined by the thousands of lives her actions would reach. It was a life that filled her with pride in a way that nothing else did. And she would experience so much more of the worlds that way.

Those two visions warred within her. But as she lay there and was slowly lulled to sleep by the steady heartbeat of the man she loved, she allowed herself to dream she could have both.

* * *

AN: I originally hoped to finish all the stuff with the elves in one chapter, but that was obviously not going to happen.


End file.
